Private Tales Faith Illuminated

[MrTophat]

Stubby fingers wound a tiny device of brass cogs and even more minute crystals that were inlaid in spinning wheels that would produce all the tones and colours of sound that one might associate with a carnival, or when set to the proper settings, the mighty instrument of the vast sanctuary of churches. The dulcet tones of pipe organs would issue from such a small device when it was set to perform but with a minor impulse of magical energy, to which those tiny cogs would turn and all sound would be revealed in a volume that was beyond it's size.

A small bird of grey fluttered down to the squat gnome's position who was hunched over the tiny device, his purple clothes that of the stage magician, his tophat a sure sign of his profession in the field of illusions, and his fingers adorned with gem inlaid rings that sparkled in the brightness that was so common to this part of the world. He looked at the rings for any sign of flickering or tremoring in colouration but found none, as he had done for the last few weeks he had stayed in this port city. He smiled as a tiny snapping sound meant that he had finished the winding of the device, and looked to the bird he could not place a name to, for this was a land he was still unfamiliar with. He tipped his hat in all earnest pleasantness towards the creature.

“You're a funny fellow, you here to see the show? Or are you waiting for someone just like me?” the gnome asked with a warm smile that was true, earnest and well meaning to all living things that came his way.

The bird chirped and preened it's tiny self. Bubkiss reached into a pocket of his jacket and fished out a shortbread biscuit he had saved from an afternoon tea he had so recently supped upon and snapped it in half gingerly. He crumbled one half in a small path pile beside the device. The bird stared at the glittering gems set upon the rings on his fingers as they sprinkled the crumbs. Bubkiss took a step back and chomped down on the rest of the shortbread, for if it was one thing the gnome enjoyed it was the occasional snack that contributed to his round belly.

“Now,” Bubkiss said after swallowing the biscuit after crunching it for long luxurious moments, “you be good now,” and turned to look at the small stage where street preachers normally resided who cried about all manner of things to the people and to the heavens.

Salvation. Omens. More salvation.

Bubkiss had enjoyed many of the sights, sounds and places of study that this port city had to offer, the sizzling fish, the barkers of jewelry, the fine teas unique to this part of the world, and his competition in the form of magic users who offered service in all manner of fields except for his own unique application of magic. But this recent talk of holy light that was upon the tongues of the prophet and the bard had truly piqued his interest, it had arrived soon after he had arrived himself, and for this Bubkiss was grateful to be hearing any version of recent events, the very reason he had ventured to this part of the realm. Religion was often a companion of any study into the domain of light, for it was rare to find a book upon the study of the weaving of light without the mention of some religious dedication of the craft. And Bubkiss had studied much under his master, and read many a book which illustrated the power of faith upon the act of harnessing light to one's own whims. Or the demands of a faith. Recent developments had met the gnome's ears, and where there was whispers of religious action there was always the allure of applying the aspect of illusion to glorify, lionise and emblazon the message of a faith.

Where there was faith, there were churches, a message to be told, delivered and impressed upon the people, and it was to this that Bubkiss often plied his trade, the enchantment of mirrors, glass and objects of faith so that they might portray the tales of the religious with a proper grandeur that Bubkiss prided himself upon providing for the clergy. And there was one particular individual that Bubkiss had so patiently waited this last two weeks since his arrival, one who had been the one to create such a tremor in the bard and prophet so that crowds were more want to listen. Bubkiss had to find out if what they spoke of was true, or relevant at all. But one thing Bubkiss was sure. Something had happened, and he could make a name for himself for the theatrics of the telling of a matter of faith. And who knew, he might learn something more about the fundamental properties of light, and how it might aid his own endeavours when it came to all things concerning it.

Or at least, such was the hope.

But time waits for no gnome. And so, Bubkiss aimed to ply his trade in what way he could in the mean time, as was becoming his habit during this time of day. He picked up the device and held it in his palm as he might have held the tiny weight of the small bird that pecked at the food he had left for. The sun shone in all it's fierceness and brilliance that set the head of Bubkiss cane to grow warm in reciprocation of that purest of things, the clarity of sunlight, the warmth of the day, and the promise of deeds to perform.

Bubkiss was a true believer in the power of light to marvel, amaze, enchant and entrance, it was his byword, his purpose to living at all, much as an artist creates for the joy of creation, so too was it with the illusionist Bubkiss. He pulled up his trousers, tightened his belt and adjusted his beard as to be as presentable as possible as he made his way over to the stand that looked over the people who milled around him, towering humanoids that paid little mind for one so so small in stature.

Upon the first step upon the stairway to the stand where the preachers stood and regaled their tales and articles of faith, a tremor emerged within the ring upon Bubkiss' little finger, a gold object with a azure gem that had been tasked with the very thing it reported now. Bubkiss hurried tucked the tiny device of sound in a pocket of his satchel, which carried all manner of things, and focused upon the ring, frozen in place by his curiosity with a foot upon the first step.

“Oh! Oh happy day!” Bubkiss said to himself as he paused to regard the ring upon his finger. He scrunched up his face and extended his tongue out of his mouth as he peered into the blue gem for more information and bid his magic to tell him more.

The gem flickered without yielding anything further.

“Oh, come on now, I set you to scry the name Kiros weeks ago, and now you hear something, you don't want to tell me where he is? Rebellious gem, do as I ask, or so help me I'll set you into a faucet. Or at the bottom of some privy so one might aim by your sparkle!”

The gem flickered some more as if compelled by this toyful threat.

“I didn't mean it,” Bubkiss said soothingly as he stepped down from the stage, driven by the direction the gem informed him of.

As he exited the stage steps, a small boy pointed at Bubkiss and remarked to their mother who was stood with a handful of books who seemed to want to bring the child quickly somewhere else.

“Look, it's the illusionist Brabkin!” the child remarked, “You gunna do more stuff with bright butterflies today mister gnome sir?”

Bubkiss gave a small chuckle at his own wounded pride and looked at the boy for but a moment, with a cheerful wit, “Good lad, the name is Bubkiss Widewallow, known to some as the Brilliant Weaver, never Brabkin! Brakin Balderdashed is a far worse fellow, no talent at all I say! And I'm afraid not! Some other time little one! I've got a show to perform with a man of faith, don't you know!” Bubkiss said with a cheerful step and a prideful sway of coat tails, even though the boy was easily a few inches taller than the gnome himself, even with the tophat to aid height.

“Okay,” the boy said with a smile his own, who was quickly dragged away by the impatient mother who was belaboured with the weight of the books she had to return.

Bubkiss peered into the ring and tapped it again, this time the gem provided a small directional beam of light that offered some small guidance to the gnome as to where the fellow of repute was. The spell had taken some time to harness, and some days Bubkiss had doubted his own application of the craft. But enchanting items was his primary occupation, and this time, like so many before, had yielded the results the gnome wished. It had required some hearsay, some study of holy symbols, a good dash of good faith and a little luck.

“Kiros, boy do I have a proposition for you...if I can find you that is,” Bubkiss ruminated to himself as he made his way slowly through the passage of people that for the most part only saw the brim and peak of his tophat in their peripheral vision.

“Excuse me, coming through, very important business, yes, thank you,” Bubkiss said as he made his way with cane in hand to try and follow the directions his ring gave him, his cane making a small satisfying clank upon the pavement, the orb shining with the same brightness that the ring did issue as they co-operated in tandem to the illusionist's wit and whim.

From above the small bird followed Bubkiss upon rooftop and grey wings of flight, eager to find more biscuits from the gnome known as Bubkiss Widewallow, the weaver of light, the enchanter extraordinaire, and a wayward spirit who knew earnest, honest and punctilious cheerfulness in a world of contention and conflict.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Failure.

Kiros had set out to verify the motives of the goddess he'd found himself an unwilling emissary of. To that end, the expedition had been a success. He'd learned enough to assuage his worry that he'd unwittingly enabled Her misdeeds. He hadn't been an accomplice to deicide, Itra simply hadn't the power to kill another goddess on the scale Seneschal must have been. Lesser gods spurred paranoid panic by their presence, he'd witnessed that often enough. Only with mortals did She dare to be so vicious.

Itra claimed Seneschal sacrificed Herself. Were that a lie and Seneschal survived, then She must've abandoned them. Try as he might, Kiros could not sense any further sign of the gentler goddess who'd given guidance during his first expedition. Nor could he imagine such a kind goddess leaving them alone with Itra. Not under anything less than the most dire of circumstances.

Were a deity's sacrifice required, why couldn't it have been Itra? He then might have been Seneschal's emissary instead, relaxed with the knowledge that he was finally serving a kind deity. One that might grant him meaningful existence and afterlife, rather than the obliteration Itra promised as punishment should non-natural death prematurely deny Her his service.

But such wasn't so.

Kiros could not be so lucky. Perhaps Seneschal found Herself in the same position Kiros had, without any other available option. He couldn't imagine Itra acting out of self-sacrifice. Perhaps Her imagined inaction had necessitated Seneschal to do so. Kiros didn't know if his suspicions were true. He wouldn't dare ask, knowing full well where that sort of inquiry would get him.

Still, an utter failure.

Despite his best efforts, Itra had still caught him. She'd sensed him by his use of Her bestowed magic. He'd little choice but to resort to it, lest their lives be lost in the skycre's attack. But it was enough for Her to involve Herself in an endeavour he'd hoped to keep Her away from. Not only that, She had chosen to establish Her presence over them and hold audience with those who'd accompanied him. The very ones to whom he owed their lives now regrettably knew of Her. And in high esteem, no less.

Of all things. Itra had taken Her time in providing aid against Andekhah, but when She wasn't needed, She seemingly could not arrive fast enough! He'd confirmed that his prior actions there had been right, but along with that success, he had failed a greater goal.

He failed to protect Arethil from awareness of Itra.

Further, She'd directed him to spread Her holy word, and whatever that was still wasn't clear. That there would be consequences for getting it wrong was, and that had been a source of continued stress during the return voyage. He'd formerly known Her to be secretive, yet She now wished to be known, for reasons he was still wrapping his mind around. He knew not what She stood for. Only what She had done, and that Her actions were to be credited with the disaster's aversion. How he was meant to present this remained an anxious unknown, however.

Yet the trip was over, all had disembarked, and Kiros was relieved to finally be among those who knew Her not. Finally among those he believed wouldn't pose questions to which he'd have to concoct answer to. He'd have to speak of Her at some point, he was so obligated, but it need not be now. He had none asking him questions currently, and thus there were no inquiry of Her that he was mandated to answer. There was a fortnight before he'd have to address Her again, and the first evening he had back in familiar lands was best spent unwinding from the ordeal. The same red kaftan he'd left for Malakath in was worn tonight as Kiros travelled through the town, hoping to find some establishment he could and purchase drinks within. Preferably strong ones.

Subtle as he tried to be, Kiros was still a foreigner in a foreign land. He stood out starkly from the crowd, despite efforts to do otherwise. His height was notable, and there were few other Kaliti in Maillian, if any at all. While he hadn't presented himself as a priest, he remained easily noticeable on his travel through the city's streets. He hadn't bothered to conceal Itra's holy symbol, doubting he could get away with doing so again. Itra had claimed that She'd be keeping a close watch. Despite Kiros' doubt that She actually would, he still wouldn't dare take the risk. Further justification for Her cruel corrective methods was the last thing he needed.

Just as others remained blissfully unaware of Her true nature, Kiros remained unaware of the news that had spread through the populace. Some spoke of the return of a sailing expedition in a foreign continent, laden with passengers claiming to have heard the direct word of a deity. To some, it was mere rumour. Some doubted it was anything more than an entity of great power. Not holy, but nonetheless remarkable were such a tale true. But to others with more interest in legend and theology, it was surely enthralling. Conjecture abounded among those who were so engrossed, but the common description of a tall Kaliti man with a brass eye adorning his staff was a constant among the many differing stories told.

Kiros knew nothing of it, having yet to speak to any. The first order of business remained a priority, and he gravitated towards the city's busier streets in hopes that he might spot a tavern. It was all he could do to to settle down and take his mind from the mess he'd been mandated to manage.

With Heirahit in hand and the Itra's symbol visible atop it, Kiros continued on his present journey to seek some sanctuary for the soul. The mess could be unravelled later. For now, he simply needed hospitality and a drink.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

The divining gem within Bubkiss' ring guided the gnome as he weaved in waylaid motions, encountering the slamming doors that were the people who swung out without care for the diminutive fellow's passage. As he ducked, stalled and resumed his hurried pace as best as he could muster as he was beset by the milling peoples who were full of chatter and idle shopping, he issued such words as, “Pardon me, excuse me, coming through, yes, I'm here, you weren't to know, don't mind me, important business, yes, that was my boot, that's okay, don't worry about it, pardon me, coming through-” with absolute sincere civility.

This continued for some time. Only the truly glum, who's vision was set upon the ground, saw the chipper gnome's efforts to zigzag to gain pole position in his own race, and dispositions were brightened by the remarks, “Thank you for stopping, much obliged, most kind, most kind of you, good day.” Bubkiss negotiated his way further.

The bird he had fed watched from the rooftops, hopping from tile to tile and from roof to roof as Bubkiss made slow passage. It tilted its head and gave a small chirp as Bubkiss lifted his hat to another glum figure in thanks, which the process of providing such civility and thanks was taking more time than a ruder pedestrian.

A more foul tempered fellow might have found the entire process exhausting, but the gnome's good spirits were inexhaustible, for he knew that there was no malice from the taller folk's lack of attentions. And he had seen a hint of a bemused smile from the down turned faces which Bubkiss was always glad to provide, either by his illusions or by his mere presence, surprising in the moment as it was.

From the vantage point, the bird's black eyes could spy the figure of Kiros and fluttered down to his feet. As it landed, it looked up to Kiros, and then hopped from place to place excitedly as it tried to watch Bubkiss slow emergence from the crowd as his eyes went up and down from the gem that was becoming more and more erratic as Kiros was closer.

“Ah ha! There you is!” Bubkiss declared, slightly out of breath from his navigations. A broad smile was upon his features and he readjusted his jacket and belt so that his belongings were better secured upon his person. He beamed at Kiros and doubted himself for but a moment, looking up and down at the ring. He walked around Kiros in a circle and saw that the gem was indeed pointing a small bead of light towards the priest.

“Yup, no doubt about it, you're the man I've been navigating through all this busyness and bustle to meet, and well, here I am, and here you are, and happy day it is indeed. Ring says so. Ring says so,” Bubkiss said with delight as if such an explanation was all that was required to allay all fears and worries, and looked at Kiros' hand upon the door of a tavern. The gnome smiled further and raised his hands, as if dismissing all worries, complaints or maladies of the fellow, as if he was playing host to the fellow. He dismissed the divining magic upon the ring, which set the bead of light to dimming and his own cane to glow a purple as it drew more energy to itself as reality made it's firm replacement of the scrying.

Bubkiss began to speak in the excited fashion that gnomes were infamous for, his words spilling over one another as if he was duty bound to speak every impulse that possessed his tiny self. He doffed his tophat and held it in his hand as he started to petition, but not before giving a small nod of acknowledgement to the bird, and set forward his words that spilled forth.

“Allow me to buy you a drink! From what I've heard you've earned it my holy fellow? Why yes of course, anything you want, I can afford what you please! Come come now, let's get off the street, for I have plenty to offer! Beside drink that is, oh goodness me yes, but I'll tell you more about the prospects I bring if you but step inside, in today's business, ah ha! Oh marvellous day that I've finally found you. Kiros yes? But proper introductions once I've wet your whistle, come to think of it I could do with a drink myself, thirsty work navigating all this bustle, but, yes, ahem. Lead on, please! I won't take no for an answer and you won't regret it, I assure you good sir!”

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Roaming the streets of Mallian for a drink, the intersecting road he approached appeared to be a major thoroughfare of the city. Foot traffic was heavy, and Kiros joined the throngs of people that implied a shops and establishments of commerce would about, a tavern likely among them. As he walked, Kiros gazed about, eyes hopping from sign to sign in search of one that identify one. And in the distance was a sign bearing two images, a red fox and a white swan. Above it was a clear depiction of a tankard filled to the brim with delicious, thirst-quenching beer.

Kiros made his immediate way over, weaving through the thick crowd towards his discovered destination. As he approached, a grey bird fluttered down to land at his feet, looking directly up at him before hopping about in place. He gazed back at it while it did, wondering whether it was the random antics of the city's wildlife, or an omen. He wasn't quite sure, but his one-track mind mused it was a matter better mulled over beer, and Kiros stepped around and over the bird in continuance of his own present personal quest.

“Ah ha! There you is!” Bubkiss said. He continued to make quite the commotion as he approached, but Kiros remained under mistaken belief of being but another face among the crowd. The spoken sentence and scurrying of the much shorter gnome was hardly even seen, tall as Kiros was. Dismissing the motions as little more than the bustling of the crowd, he continued on towards the tavern. His mind remained ever focused on his personal mission for the reward provided by a good tankard of beer.

“Yup, no doubt about it, you're the man I've been navigating through all this busyness and bustle to meet, and well, here I am, and here you are, and happy day it is indeed. Ring says so. Ring says so,” Added Bubkiss, standing directly beside him and dispelling any notions that he might be addressing another. Kiros turned to face him as he made his egress into the establishment, his gaze roaming lower and lower until he caught the bright eyes of Bubkiss looking right up at him.

The small, strange grey bird.

It was no omen, but an unexpected bid for his attention. The ring had identified him, and continued to do so even now by means of a beam of light pointing in his direction. The gnome had not merely bumped into him, but clearly tracked him down. Kiros wasn't immediately sure what the man wanted of him, and took a moment of contemplation before a chilling realization took hold.

Oh shit.

The murders!

Panicked as the thought was, it seemed doubtful that was Bubkiss' purpose in approaching though. The chipper little gnome hardly look like he'd set out to apprehend a criminal. Not by his demeanour, nor his tone, nor his presentation. With paranoia dispelled, Kiros mused to the next most likely theory: The gnome likely meant to join the expedition, or perhaps had curiosity about it. But all would be clarified by Bubkiss, shortly after dispelling the magic from the ring that led him here.

“Allow me to buy you a drink! From what I've heard you've earned it my holy fellow? Why yes of course, anything you want, I can afford what you please! Come come now, let's get off the street, for I have plenty to offer! Beside drink that is, oh goodness me yes, but I'll tell you more about the prospects I bring if you but step inside, in today's business, ah ha! Oh marvellous day that I've finally found you. Kiros yes? But proper introductions once I've wet your whistle, come to think of it I could do with a drink myself, thirsty work navigating all this bustle, but, yes, ahem. Lead on, please! I won't take no for an answer and you won't regret it, I assure you good sir!” Bubkiss fired off his introduction at a rapid pace, and Kiros struggled to process it all, latching onto important bits he'd caught here and there. Bubkiss sought him as a 'holy fellow', and Kiros wasn't clad in his holy robes. Likely, he had wind of the events experienced in Ravaryn. Assuredly so, to be able to blurt out a detail so personal Kiros had believed concealed, until now. Unlike the kooky old man in Farreach, Bubkiss appeared far more lucid, if not a touch eccentric.

There seemed little doubt that he was interested in what had transpired. Not if he hailed Kiros as a holy man. By the gods... Kiros had barely made it to the tavern without yet further interest into a matter he still had to concoct a proper explanation for. Brushing the man away was hardly an appealing option. Itra was watching. Possibly. Or so She claimed. Consequences were something She'd go on at length about, yet She was hardly so generous with the very information needed to properly see Her given task through! At least he'd managed to find a tavern before fielding questions. A small blessing that the interruption wouldn't interfere with his continued desire for a good tankard of beer.

But, Bubkiss had money. Beyond a good drink, his offer implied the really good stuff would fill his tankard tonight, and for free! He'd fetched a fair amount of coin from the excursion, but windfalls like it were few and far between. Far from a spendthrift and otherwise unlikely to enjoy such an evening at the tavern, Kiros found Bubkiss' offer to be appealing, indeed. Though begrudging of having to contend with such matters so soon after his return, he'd at least be supplied with good drink as he wove his tale. It would certainly help.

Getting it over with now meant not having to worry about it tomorrow, at least. Still, Kiros had been caught entirely unprepared. It wasn't as if he could simply have Bubkiss return later once he'd concocted a sturdy-looking house of lies. Priests were expected to have answers and wisdom of the divine. They were ceartainly not expected to guess. But with no further option or relevent aid from his own deity, Kiros was left to do just that.

“Kiros, yes. From what you've heard? Please tell me, of The Crook, or new continent?” Kiros said, uncertain of what Bubkiss had heard. For all Kiros knew he might simply be intereted in geography after all. Quite doubtful, but there was still some small hope as they stepped through the busy tavern.

“And please, might I have your name?” He added, while the two continued in their search of suitable seating for drinks and conversation.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

“Ah ha, well, here's the curious thing, I've heard,” Bubkiss began as they entered, the gnome spinning to address Kiros as they entered. He strode in with a sense that he didn't quite own the place more than he had rented it for this very meeting and was playing host to the priest. He paused and chuckled at himself as he realised there was the question of who he was, as if delaying a punchline for his own enjoyment of it for but a moment before delivering it. Taking off his hat with a well rehearsed pull and held it as a true performer might, with all grandness of formality and gesture that was key to the magician ability to generate fame, and with it, coin, he began to speak again, “that one should never begin a business negotiation on an empty stomach. At the very least if you're to listen to little ol' Bubkiss Widewallow, that's me by the way, but more on that in just a smidge, that you should be fed and watered as suiting your stature. I'll answer any and all questions as best I can provide, but yes, won't do to have you without. That is very much the spirit of why I speak to you, hm, yes! But ah yes, here, a seat. I must find, ah ha, excellent, very sporting of you my good and most excellent bard Maxamillion du Pomp.”

Despite his height, a few patrons had already noticed the gnome walk in as Bubkiss had spent some time in here before, performing as an assistant to the bards that performed here once or twice. One such bard, the named Maxamillion du Pomp, a fellow who carried a shining silver flute that shone brightly despite the dim lighting of the place, brought up an appropriate chair that was better suited towards Bubkiss' stature. His depictions of the tales provided had brought both a small shred of reputation amongst those who who would provide show for coin.

The bard spoke in a thick accent that mirrored Bubkiss well meaning nature.

“Ah, the illusionist returns! I must thank you for the glamour you placed on my instrument, it is catching, no?” The bard twirled his flute, and all manner of sparkling stars issued from the device in it's wake. The broad man of luxurious clothing gleamed himself without any assistance of magic. He continued, “Will you be working with us again tonight? You did our performances well two day ago, and now I see you again, surely, more art is to be created with your skills! We could bring in quite the audience, I have some new ideas!”

Bubkiss dragged the chair out so that he might climb it up with some small difficulty. While some gnomes had mastered clambering up such objects, Bubkiss with his various tools and equipment was rather encumbered to the task. The bard took a moment, looked at Kiros for but a second, and took a broad paw to take the chair and in effect scoop him up.

Bubkiss turned and placed his hat upon the table and gave a satisfied “hah” for the aid and turned to speak to his bard colleague, who was behind him now with both hands upon the back of the chair and pushed him in.

“Ah, well, I'm afraid I have business,” Bubkiss confessed, “but working with you is a joy, so I'll see in the future if I am able to provide. No promises though! Might be awfully busy soon, but it was a treat to illustrate your tale of weave and woe, of passions and plays, but a fellow must be true to the muse they have been called to! You understand how it is. And, while I have you du Pont, seeing as I find you in an awfully generous mood, I don't suppose you could ask if Kris could bring a menu, and a selection of choices of drink for my friend here? Parched, weary and famished he is I am certain.”

Bubkiss reached into a pouch as he spoke, and rummaged to find a small canister of oil that could be applied by a thumb to the back of it. “Here's the ointment to keep your instruments in resplendent fashion with the enchantment I placed upon it, known as Sheen of Salios, or Quicksilver Dab. Can be found in the market my good fellow. Free of charge, if, well, you understand,” Bubkiss said as he showed both his open palms as he placed the oil on the table, as if confessing he was about to perform the sleight of hand that he did not require in his magic.

The bard nodded and took the oil from the table with a well meaning smile that suggested conspiracy of purpose. Maxamillion looked over to Kiros and could be seen to be contemplating saying something, but looked at the canister of oil, and instead went off to find Kris in the medley of patrons, darts, clinking drinks, steaming food and the heavy scent of tobacco with all expedience.

Although while misdirection was the key to the performance of the mundane illusionist, of sleight of hand and all manner of cues of the mind to suggest and fool, no such trace of such deception lurked within the gnome. He placed both hands eagerly forward and sealed them together and said very quietly so that only Kiros could hear.

“Talented fellow, but if he had his way he'd have me weaving the same three stories every night.”

He became louder and less conspiratorial, as if dismissing one of his own illusions with panache. “Whereas you, well, there's a story to tell I am certain, one I haven't heard in full, in dribs and drabs, whispers, dreams, visions and the talk of some. But first, drinks. Food. Relaxation for one who I hear has had quite the time of it. Yes.”

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“Ah ha, well, here's the curious thing, I've heard,” Bubkiss began, and Kiros' listened intently, expecting to confirm the cause for which he had been sought out. That it would involve Her seemed certain, but he remained hesitant to be initially open. He didn't want to risk divulging knowledge beyond what was necessary, not that She'd made any mention of what that was. She'd merely instructed him that he was to speak, but mentioned not what to say. As always, he was left to his own in discerning what may or may not trigger Her ire during his next altar prayer.

Normally, he'd have passed himself off as a member of the Annunaki priesthood when acting as a priest. Usually a follower of Naspar, though they would rarely be caught in a tavern so crowded, few so far from the western sands knew that. But Kiros needed no false identity today. It felt surreal that he didn’t. Bubkiss did not know him as an Annunaki priest, but as the emissary of Itra.

Others knew of Her now. The change in holy prerogative had left Kiros’ head spinning. For sixteen long years he’d been mandated to maintain Her secrecy, he’d even been sent off to frigid lands on suspicion that another knew of Her. Yet now, he'd been ordered to deliver Her word, and had a captive audience waiting for him as soon as he’d set foot within Mallian.

But Bubkiss would not speak of such matters so soon, but rather turned the topic to food. Actual food, the kind freshly cooked and not simply stored away. He'd had enough of rations, and had long grown sick of salted meat and hard tack that constituted the bulk of them. Here, they served food that tasted like food, not salt. Food that might be eaten with a knife and fork, rather than the knife and mallet the hard tack needed. Kiros had been looking forward to the meal, and with Bubkiss handling the bill it would be a fine one, indeed.

Further, it would buy him a little more time with which he might concoct the answers his dining companion would doubtlessly request.

The gnome clearly had a name for himself. The tavern was an exquisite one, and it's grandeur had played no small part in securing Kiros' attention as it had to many other customers drawn in from the streets. Bubkiss must be quite affluent. The bard to whom he spoke was certainly no pauper, not by the extravagant instrument he spun within his hand. Heirahit gave a faintly tactile sensation as the flute moved and flung sparkles into the air. Subtle, but detectable. Kiros was slowly growing accustomed to the senses the divinely enchanted staff bestowed to him. It was about as intuitive as any boon She'd offered – not very.

The bard had nothing to speak to him of, and Kiros had likewise little to discuss. After Maxmillian made his silent departure, Kiros reached into a pocket to procure his silver pipe, a small thin reed stem, and a bag of tobacco. Carefully tipping the bag to spill a bit of the stuff within the cavity of the pipe, he then tucked it away. Bubkiss began to speak again, and Kiros listened attentively while tapping the tobacco down into the pipe with the end of the thin, dried reed.

“Whereas you, well, there's a story to tell I am certain, one I haven't heard in full, in dribs and drabs, whispers, dreams, visions and the talk of some. But first, drinks. Food. Relaxation for one who I hear has had quite the time of it. Yes.” Bubkiss said, speaking in an exuberant manner. He'd yet to bring up the topic of Her, and Kiros would not rush him. His kind company had so graciously offered him a moment to relax, providing food and drink beyond what the frugal priest would have purchased for himself. A pipe full of tobacco would further ease his nerves, and Kiros extended the reed into the fire of a candle to set it alight.

Bubkiss implied that he arrived in pursuit of rumour. He held not the whole story, nor bits and pieces of it. Kiros didn't even hold the full story, but the bits and pieces himself. Whatever dust had settled out and trickled among the populace by rumour must have drawn Bubkiss in, curious to discover the story behind it. Kiros, meanwhile, was curious as to the dusting of knowledge this gnome had collected. An Arethil where he was not alone in his awareness of Her felt like a new world entirely. He knew not what Arethil did know of Her, and determining that was crucial information to best determine how to act as Her prophet.

“Quite a tale, touching upon history most ancient and forgotten.” Kiros said. A relatively safe remark to make, applicable to either Seneschal or Itra, though the former remained hitherto unknown to all but the expeditioners. To proceed carefully was almost instinctual. These were new grounds he'd have to tread, and his words chosen with care. Whatever he'd speak would be essentially scripture, delivering the message of the divine to those of this mortal coil as a high priest. Not a high priest of a proper deity, but Itra was a deity. By technicality, at least.

“But food and relaxation, after a trip so lengthy and arduous, is sorely desired. Your hospitality is most appreciated my companion, and I make no denial that a full stomach and tankard are among those treats sorely missed from the mainland.” Kiros concluded, and that felt a touch surreal as well. Liadain and Epressa had been the entirely of all they knew upon Arethil, and that there was now the third continent of Malakath among them. Bit by bit, it seemed like the world around him was changing.

Soon, he'd need to explain that to which he was still struggling to adjust. Kiros drew the lit reed to his packed pipe, taking a draw to light the leaf before puffing out a cloud of smoke to join the rest which wafted throughout the busy tavern surrounding them.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

“Well then, fill your belly with whatever you desire. I think there might be a roast on offer today, and well, that would be suiting me. Of course, unless you're a vegetarian? Some religious folks go that way, which I understand, but I couldn't abide it myself, I just haven't got the willpower to say no to such things. Ah, Kris, there you are, splendid. How are you today?”

Kris, an elven woman with long locks of auburn hair and eyes of autumn colour, provided menus to the table, placing them just so, and provided a warm smile that was perhaps delivered only to secure a tip from gnome. Such a thought wasn't lost on Bubkiss, but he thought he shouldn't entertain such a cynical thought for fear of making a habit of it.

“Just fine Bubkiss, just fine. What can I get you gentlemen? Do you need some time with the menu?” she asked, her accent lacking the abrasive tones that could be heard in the voices of the patrons here, who laughed without regard for their volume or pitch. Kris delivered her words as if they were gilded, as if they were deserving a cloche all their own.

“Splendid,” Bubkiss said, and appraised the menu with a small adjustment of his glasses. He gave out a, “Tum te tum tum, ah, hm, yes, yes that'll do,” quietly which Kris gave a small sound of bemusement at.

Bubkiss twisted in his seat and looked up at his host and provided his order while handing his menu back with a stretch.

“I'll have the roast pork with extra potatoes, a half pint of fresh orange juice, and a cocktail containing apple liquors if you are able, only if that's possible that is, I know I drank a lot of it the other night,” Bubkiss asked. Kris smiled at the order and committed it to memory.

She quipped, “Most people just order beer or wine to sustain themselves. I'll see if we have some left, it's not commonly served you understand. Might you be trying to prevent scurvy?”

Bubkiss was undeterred in his order. He took off his glasses and rubbed them against his jacket, and replied, “Couldn't hurt to be cautious of such a thing, but beside that concern, I need all the zest I can get. Helps the mind keep cheerful you know, and it might keep the doctor away too, if folks are to be believed.” Bubkiss said and patted his belly rhythmically as to secure the thought. If one were to look at the menu for the items Bubkiss had ordered, they were on the pricier end of things, and Bubkiss had made the order to allay the fear of Kiros from spending whatever he wanted. This was an occasion to be remembered if all things went well in the future, Bubkiss thought. If they were to work together, which was the sincere hope of the enterprising gnome, they should build a good foundation of friendship before building the foundation of something else entire.

Kris turned her attention to Kiros.

“And how might we oblige you today, sir,” Kris asked and both her and Bubkiss's eyes turned to the priest expectantly.

“If you need time to think about it,” Bubkiss said with more smiles, “I can wait, don't mean to hurry you my good man. But please, order whatever your heart desires. Don't mind the cost, just get what will put you in a better place," he said sincerely, as if trying to soothe the fellow of what troubles had recently plagued him in the pursuit of his faith. Not that Bubkiss knew much, but the fragments of stories he had heard placed Kiros in a place of some strife, and if he believed the various priests that had granted him slithers of information, Bubkiss estimated that the fellow deserved some home comforts. Every individual of faith is sustained by faith, Bubkiss thought, but a fine meal and some good drinks raises morale almost without fail. And Bubkiss would not forgive himself if he began their relationship with the fellow in poor spirits.

Especially when the prospect of what could be done had filled the gnome's mind with all manner of designs of splendor for Kiros' cause, even if the particulars were not quite within his small hands grasp. If he could offer Kiros some hint of the good life, he would be glad of it, for what was the point of doing great deeds and fantastic works of art without some recognition and self care? Or so the gnome thought as he rested his hands on his round belly and reclined a little.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“Well then, fill your belly with whatever you desire. I think there might be a roast on offer today, and well, that would be suiting me. Of course, unless you're a vegetarian? Some religious folks go that way, which I understand, but I couldn't abide it myself, I just haven't got the willpower to say no to such things. Ah, Kris, there you are, splendid. How are you today?” Bubkiss asked, and Kiros exhaled a puff of smoke to his side before responding.

“A roast? No no, I’m perfectly amenable to that. A fine meal after such a lengthy voyage.” Kiros replied, quite agreeable to the offered suggestion. That, some cooked vegetables and soft bread would make for a good meal alongside a tankard of beer. Probable that he could get such a plateful of food here, it was a common arrangement among taverns anywhere. He hadn't a clue what vegetables or bread would be on selection, Mallian was about as far from his familiar territory of Elbion as one could get. Whatever the locals had available would suffice for him, anyhow. After subsisting on rations for so long Kiros was hardly one to be fussy with what food he was served.

Besides beer, bread was something he'd been looking forward to. It was hard to consider food a meal without it, and he was hard pressed to refer to that hard tack as bread. The ingredients may have been similar, but the travelling foodstuff hadn't seen the inside of an oven for months. Freshly baked bread was among those luxuries awaiting him. In constructing the meal he'd momentarily devour, he'd only made himself even hungrier.

With his dinner decided, Kiros' thoughts turned to that of the tale he'd have to weave. Itra's actual actions were rather violent and disconcerting, to put it mildly. The fate of the Crook's thief was that of torment, he'd be in Her company for the rest of eternity. The torture itself was gruesome, She saw that his skin was flayed, his organs eaten, and his flesh burned. He would be subjected to the ever repeating cycle of devouring and regrowth, in some cruel analogy to the repetitive waxing and waning of Pneria. Kiros suspected it was merely bent logic to allow Her the possession of a torture-pet.

Either way, it was not exactly the sort of polite conversation one typically had with a guest over dinner.

Perhaps it would be more suitable to begin with the matter the thief had been punished for, but that reasoning was not clear to him. Kiros had two differing accounts, spoken by two different deities. Seneschal had sent him to preserve The Crook and stop the thief, while Itra had blamed a multitude of factors, the strongest stated of which was Her blame upon him for the sacrifice of Seneschal, Herself. Seneschal's bidding and the lessons learned with Ravaryn seemed a more fitting account to tell, but Itra's had been the one he was mandated to speak of. Yet he was to further speak of Her as a goddess who wasn't cruel. Kiros had to lie, for there was no other means of getting past that limitation. He'd made his peace with that. Recounting Her actions without implying Her cruelty however was a vexing problem, and one that still perplexed him as Kris gave an interruption to his stirring thoughts.

“And how might we oblige you today, sir,” Kris asked of him, and Kiros broke from his pondering to respond.

“If you need time to think about it, I can wait, don't mean to hurry you my good man. But please, order whatever your heart desires. Don't mind the cost, just get what will put you in a better place," Bubkiss assured him. The reassurance was good although Kiros was hardly one to take advantage of him. His heart had already been set on staples when he arrived, and he'd no desire to upgrade to a meal different to that he'd desired for days before being seated here. He'd certainly make a full course meal of it, peckish as he'd become. Some bread and beer had been his original plan, but with the delicious scents wafting for the air and delicious food available, Kiros could not help but broaden his order with some of the roast and vegetables too.

“I’ll have some of the roast, an assortment of cooked vegetables, a serving of bread and a tankard of beer please.” Kiros responded, steadily listing the items he'd ordered. Hopefully, he could get such a meal. He hadn’t been very specific with his order, he never was in a strange land. Any Kaliti food item he’d request would surely be met with confusion and an odd stare this far from the territory. Hopefully his conservative selection would be in stock, save for some choices in the particulars. Whatever beer was offered would do. Much as he missed Kaliti beer, the taste of eastern beer had grown on him throughout his long travels. By now, it was one of comfort, for when he had beer, the presence of hospitality and food were strongly correlated.

And here in the tavern was no exception. Bubkiss had made him comfortable indeed, supplied him with food and ensured a night of comfort without the fretting over the inevitable cost attached to such luxuries. And after sixteen years of Her incomprehensible instruction and headache and costs incurred by them, he did deserve it. It was the most appreciation he'd been given for doing Her work, and She was not the one to show it! Itra was completely lost to Her self delusion that it was an honour to serve Her.

And She's a supposed goddess of 'Insight', no less.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

“Ah excellent, I see you also a fellow who enjoys creating smoke signals,” Bubkiss said making casual observation as he reached into his jacket pocket for his own long pipe from extraordinarily deep pockets. He produced it from one side of his jacket, and then fished out a small silver tin that carried a blue sheen to it which he opened with a well practised manoeuvrer and packed his own smaller yet more bulbous pipe than Kiros' own.

Bubkiss lit the pipe with but a basic cantrip of fire, one of the few cantrips outside of illusions that the gnome knew and relied upon in his daily life, and drew in heavily as he rubbed the heat away from his digits. He allowed his next part of conversation to be delivered as smoke slowly trickled downwards from the corners of his mouth, and as it did Bubkiss subconsciously and as a matter of habit made the smoke appear as if it carried an especially azure hue to it. A simple illusion was performed as second nature to the gnome, without strain or need to concentrate.

“You know, I worked with some folks who couldn't stand my smoking so that's a relief to be sure. You have no qualms with eating meat and you enjoy a smoke, yes, this does me well to see. So.” he said, and became slower and more calm and assured in his conversation, for he knew this line of dialogue well, although he contained no preprepared speech, he was accustomed to hawking his own proficiencies.

“Let me begin by saying a few things about what I do. How I earn my living, and well, the path that I've been called to all my days on this good ground we call home. I'm an illusionist, I work with light and enchantments. Some illusions conceal, whereas I, well, I reveal. I convey images, interwoven with ideas that others often bring me. I can deliver performances to entrance and entertain, but what I most enjoy is telling a story. And stories that remain after I've journeyed on. I typically work with stained glass to do such a thing, but I can paint across almost any object. Stained glass works well for I often work with churches. Been at it for a while now, and I do say I have yet to be bested in the field! Well, since my master left the scene,” Bubkiss said and exhaled the rest of the substantial smoke he had inhaled through his large nose. There would have been a time where mentioning his master would have brought him a twinge of sadness, but it was simply a matter of heritage now, a matter of declaring his training. The smoke carried the same azure hue as it was exhaled in two thin columns. He smacked his lips and let his shoulders be more at ease for virtue of his smoking. His words were delivered with good cheer, without the vindictive nature of someone bragging about their work over others, but rather stating such accomplishments as plain, wholesome fact.

“I've heard a few things that show that your faith is a rising star. Achieved a few things. Done some good! And all good faiths need to power of wonder, some good old fashion showmanship. I know you don't sell snake oil, I am not not in the business of helping faiths that don't deliver. And I've heard your God, Itra, wasn't it? Well, has acted. And that's a worthy thing. Many faiths I worked for promised a lot, and well, I found it to be rather tiresome to tell stories without some element of truth behind it. That's why I sought you out my good fellow. You did some good out there, right?” Bubkiss said in a well meaning fashion, although was completely unaware of how he might be hopping from one conversational topic to the other. Such was the charm and folly of gnomes.

He figured that his usual pitch might not entice the fellow in, but instead favoured a more casual approach, one that was personable and more leading than a typical salespitch. They had the time to eat a meal to convince each other of anything, and Bubkiss thought to use his time wisely by asking him such a question. Better than the dry and unenthusiastic business proposals he had suffered from some in his brief time enterprising in the world.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Kiros took another draw from his silver pipe, exhaling another smoky cloud that wafted into the haze permeating the tavern. Beer may have been consumed during times of comfort and relaxation, but smoking was a regular activity partaken of in either the absence or presence of such times. The cozy environment he’d found himself in certainly counted towards the latter, as did the food and drink so generously compensated by Bubkiss. Were it not for the divine explanation he’d be expected to give, it would have been an evening entirely devoid of any fret whatsoever.

Speaking of Her would necessarily require him to fabricate scripture, as She hadn’t made Her principles clear. There was doubt that he’d even know whether or not he'd gotten it right until he had mentioned them – after which, he’d simply be smote upon his next altar prayer if he’d spoken in error. Painful a consequence as it was, it was hardly a hindrance. He'd grown jaded to the punishment. She was just as likely to smite him for something else, anyhow. The greater concern was that he'd need to correct any errors he may utter. He'd not normally have such issues with admitting mistake, but it was another matter entirely when he was to deliver supposedly immutable word from a goddess, Herself. Divine truth cannot be corrected on account of errata.

Despite the unexpected timing and Kiros’ reluctance, this had by far been among the least dangerous of Her given holy quests. He was in no danger of death as he often was undertaking Her other demands. That he’d survived to the age of forty-four would’ve been considered a miracle, were he not averse to crediting divine actions to his survival. If anything, he'd survived despite them.

“Ah excellent, I see you also a fellow who enjoys creating smoke signals.” Spoke Bubkiss, withdrawing his own pipe from his pocket and lighting it through a magical incantation, as casually as Kiros had with a piece of kindling. The smoke shifted from the colour of a cloud to the colour of the daytime sky. Clearly it was further use of magic, but Bubkiss appeared to be weaving no effect. As far as Kiros was aware, it could be an enchantment upon the pipe. Smoke signals seemed a strange way to put it, but the blue exhaled smoke was certainly far from the ordinary.

“You know, I worked with some folks who couldn't stand my smoking so that's a relief to be sure. You have no qualms with eating meat and you enjoy a smoke, yes, this does me well to see. So.” Bubkiss said.

“Ah, but two of the pleasures I can readily acquire wherever I might be.” Kiros responded. Though it was rather common for trauma healers to pick up the habit, Itra had been an undeniably greater influence in his acquisition of it. His unwilling post as Her holy prophet required something to help calm the nerves. Having been so acclimatized to smoking, he’d found it a pleasant pastime when relaxed as well. Seemingly, any situation would call for a puff of his pipe.

“Let me begin…” Bubkiss spoke, continuing on to introduce himself. He was an illusionist, working with light and magic to construct images. Much as an artist might do with paint, Bubkiss claimed to illustrate through magic. By his description, he fancied himself more a storyteller than a showman, leaving a long lasting depiction of his work for all to gaze upon. Kiros nodded as he listened, now grasping why Bubkiss had likely sought him out. Beyond mere curiosity, it seemed the gnome sought a story to tell and had caught wind of Itra’s presence within Ravaryn.

Stained glass was Bubkiss’ common medium, and religious imagery a stated favoured subject. To this, Kiros could easily relate. Since he’d been a young boy he’d been ever fascinated with the tales of the gods and the associated monuments to them. The temples of Amol-Kalit were abundant with their imagery, with great painted statues sparing neither expense nor effort in their construction. Vivid in colour and grandiose in scale, he could not help but have been completely enamoured with the temple monuments and depictions. Truly, there were truly no greater stories to be told, and none greater that he could serve than The Six. For a time, he briefly had.

Then he killed his own priestly position in a moment of deadly anger. Now, he’d only the worst of the gods to preach of.

Bubkiss continued to speak of Kiros’ faith, professing that it was a rising one among religions. Despite the jovial and cordial nature of the compliment, the assessment sent a chill down his spine. Never did he imagine that She would gain any prominence. Kiros considered it would be better if She hadn’t.

And then he spoke Her name.

Bubkiss could hardly be blamed for revering Her. She was a holy goddess after all, and Kiros too had initially held Her in high esteem based purely upon that. But not all gods were great, and the painful lesson was cost of serving Her, which itself was a cost of his crimes in Annuakat. A lifetime of escaping his own problems had seen him handling Hers, leading to this moment where he’d have to sing the praises of She who was so fickle and cruel.

Despite his unwillingness, to refuse the task would be to rebuke Her and leave himself with no other fate but The Pit. Even worse, She’d surely seek a new prophet now that word of Her existence had reached others. Xzaar was blissfully unaware and held Her in the highest regard. Perhaps Itra would task him, and the poor elf would be left to suffer Her 'guidance'. Far nobler and better to undertake the regrettable task himself. Others might deliver word that was in Itra’s best interest, but Kiros remained resolute in his determination to speak in Arethil’s.

“That's why I sought you out my good fellow. You did some good out there, right?” Bubkiss asked.

“Truly. One dared to touch an ancient relic known as The Crook, endangering the very existence of all within Arethil.” Kiros replied, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Itra had sent me in search of it, and the goddess Seneschal whom once guarded it.” Kiros continued, finding the qualifier 'once' sufficient, for Seneschal was no more. Itra claimed She had perished, and Kiros once doubted that. There was little doubt, She was gone, but Kiros had barely begun his story and it was hardly the time to break the news of a deity's demise.

But Bubkiss would surely hear all, soon enough.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

Bubkiss turned the pipe within his mouth in regard of the words. He gave a curious hum, one that was well meaning and invested in the words delivered.

“See, that's why I knew it was most important to see you, to try and work with you and elevate such things beyond themselves. You are interacting the world! Dealing with artefacts, making a difference! Much more than I can say for some of my other clients. More concerned with their coffers and splendor than actually making a difference in the world. I mean, I've worked for some big places, but it was empty spaces needing my touch, not the volume of deeds that it seems that you have to your name. And your God, of course, can't forget that.”

Bubkiss cleared his throat and looked for the food that might appear at any moment. He puffed on his pipe and continued.

“I'm glad you took the time to drink and dine with me. I think you've gained a fan in me, I heard much, but hearing you now I seem to have a vague information that might be shattered by the truth of things. I must ask, are there any icons or imagery that are particular close to your faith? If nothing else I should know of the symbol you wish to portray when I create your image to others.”

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Interacting with the world was one way to put it. Kiros hadn’t understood The Crook, its purpose, or its power; only that its disturbance had caused instability within the nature of magic. All the same, handing access to Itra had not been his ideal choice, but the goddess Seneschal had expired and could no longer grant him guidance. Were not for the approval implied in Seneschal’s final sacrificial act, Kiros would have never trusted Itra near an artifact of such potential.

Ever uncertain since, his return to Ravaryn had yielded some answers, but raised many more. But his actions had restored magic to a stable state. Seneschal had been shown to be a worthy authority to follow.

Kiros knew full well that Itra was most certainly not, but Bubkiss could not. His excitement in the matter was plentiful and clear, for he saw Itra in the same light Kiros initially had. She was a god. As Kiros had been taught and believed, gods deserved automatic reverence. In the years since, he had learned otherwise.

He could not honestly speak of how he truly felt. In sixteen years, he never imagined ever having to introduce Itra. It still seemed surreal that he'd been made to do so after having guarded Her secrecy for so long. Safeguarding Arethil from awareness of Her had been among the few principles of Hers he could earnestly agree with. Not even the Abtati were deserving of a deity so detestable.

“And your God, of course, can’t forget that.”

“There is truly no forgetting the grace of the divine.” Kiros replied, concealing his snark to deliver the deadpan statement as if it were holy scripture to be shared. Given that he was delivering it as Her anointed priest, it truly was. Yet sitting in a tavern and frantically sorting out half-truths and mistruths hardly felt like it. To speak of and spread the word of a deity was an honour Kiros had long dreamed of made true. That it was Itra seemed like a cruel joke, in a way.

“I must ask, are there any icons or imagery that are particular close to your faith?” Bubkiss asked. An inquiry of icons and imagery, of which he had but one. Kiros reached to his staff leaning against the wall of the booth at which they were seated. Heirahit was rather tall, and the symbol that capped it no bigger than his fist. It was Her symbol, though the brass and bronze ornament was very meagre. Little about it grabbed attention – a quality that Kiros preferred, and Itra allowed.

“I have one atop my staff, Heirahit. Imbued with Her blessing, a bestowed gift.” Kiros responded, placing the staff upon the table with the symbol easily seen by Bubkiss. Crafted from brass and bronze, both metals subtly contrasted against one another in the shape of an eight pointed star, bearing resemblance to an eye. The curves within the design were meticulous and measured, akin to geometric patterns so often found in Kaliti art.

That the symbol of one so inattentive was a watchful eye further seemed an ironic joke. He wasn't here to deliver honest opinion on Her. Such could not go well.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

Bubkiss' eyes lit up at the sight of such a thing properly introduced, and he gripped the pipe within his teeth as his hands did dance in anticipation. His first impulse was to reach and clasp the thing, but good reason prevailed and good manners besides. Instead, the hands went to playing the musical instrument that was the domain of illusion for Kiros' benefit. They moved in strange movements as if animated by the gnome's imagination augmented with his knowledge of patterns of the magical.

“Ah ha, I see, an eye, very good, and brass and bronze, not the most conductive to illusions, silver's the best you see, mirror stuff and all that, but yes, brass and bronze does have a certain allure. Let me think, ah yes, I have made copper and bronze dragons before,” Bubkiss said, wittering on in his own method for a moment in contemplation. His hands absent mindedly conjured two small dragons of said metallic lineage into existence at the memory. They danced and praced about the table in play fighting between the two of them, before being dismissed as quickly as the thought escaped Bubkiss as he continued on.

“Let's say, hmm, an eye, yes,” Bubkiss said, as if he was concocting a recipe of his own creation and was considering what herbs to add, his hands sprinkling nothing in the air but adding visage to the air. A faint outline of an eye in copper tones was to be found hovering in the space between the two patrons of the place. Bubkiss inhaled and exhaled a breath of vanilla scented smoke, which filled the empty spaces of the eye. The pupil became as bronze, the rest became more full bodied in colour as the mist solidified into light before Bubkiss' mastery. He placed the pipe down, now fully engrossed in the act of creation.

He blinked a few times, looking at the staff and the eye in rapid movements, as if he was a street illustrator. Although what was being created was certainly no caricature, but a flattering depiction of the eye. The eye blinked.

“Oh, sorry, does the eye not blink? Probably not. Depicting all knowingness no doubt, correct me if I'm wrong here,” Bubkiss said and clasped both hands together. At once the eight pointed symbol span into creation from the eye, and carried more lustre that the eye itself. “There, the points!” Bubkiss said and rubbed his beard as he looked upon it.

“There can be animation of a sort, whatever you please. And tones can change also, observe,” Bubkiss said, and snapped his fingers. It turned as to solid gold, shining brilliantly, and then another snap, emerald, snap, liquid water, another snap, back to copper and bronze.

“You're central symbol is this, yes? It won't be difficult to make this any size you please above a temple, or as small as a book or scroll. I can perform such things easily. Now if you wanted words to eminate from the eye or some such marvellous thing, ah, well, I talk too much I know. Oh look,” Bubkiss said and rubbed his hands together, and then looked to his illusion instead of the meal waiting in the wings from the same waitress as before, and shoo'd the symbol closer to Kiros so that he might observe such a thing.

“Our food! Dig in my good man!” Bubkiss said, brandishing his knife and fork. His stomach gave out a growl at the prospect of food and the gnome seemed firmly in his element, talking illusions, dining with a new found friend, and earning his way in the world.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“Ah ha, I see, an eye, very good, and brass and bronze, not the most conductive to illusions, silver's the best you see, mirror stuff and all that, but yes, brass and bronze does have a certain allure. Let me think, ah yes, I have made copper and bronze dragons before,” Spoke Bubkiss. Kiros knew little of illusory magic, though such observations seemed sensible enough. Further, little was known of why his symbol had to be cast of copper alloy beyond Her demand that it be so. He imagined bronze was simply closest to the hue of Pneria. Without explicit reasoning from Her however, his guess remained conjecture. He merely knew She considered it holy, for some reason.

“An interesting fact, I knew it not. Though copper is the metal held holy by Her.” Kiros replied. There was another reason fine metals such as silver remained absent – Heirahit would have been stolen were it crafted from such a valuable resource. Though he could enjoy his recent financial windfall, Kiros had far from well off throughout his tenure. This hadn't been the impression he'd given Xzaar, who remained convinced that his position as Her priest yielded riches and luxury. The truth was far from it. Perhaps if She'd bestow such gifts and blessings to him before sending him off on a holy quest rather than upon its conclusion, he'd not need to spend so much coin undertaking them.

Attention turned to the magic Bubkiss wove the moment Heirahit signalled its detection of it. Kiros leaned further in his seat, watching the shapes summoned through Bubkiss' arcane talent. A puff of smoke furthered the illusion, adding form to the outline he'd made, and further spell-weaving separated the colours of the holy symbol into distinct brass and bronze. A different form of magic, Bubkiss' magic carried greater control than what She had given him. The effects of Her spells were consistent, and Kiros could cause little variance in their effect, though the effect may be formidable. He'd only understood the incantations well enough to invoke them, and even that had taken gruelling effort.

“Oh, sorry, does the eye not blink? Probably not. Depicting all knowingness no doubt, correct me if I'm wrong here,” Bubkiss sought to confirm his assumption, and Kiros didn't know whether it was or wasn't. The only being who might was presently feeding skycres back in Malakath. But Kiros was presenting himself as the high priest of a goddess, and was surely expected to know such a thing. Were he not the authority on such theological facets of Her, he'd project little purpose as Her high priest.

It was, at least, a yes-or-no question, and the odds that any guess would be correct were one of two.

“No it does not, but please carry no fret.” Kiros responded, his response carefully conditioned. He'd rather not have Bubkiss worry, but neither could he be so lackadaisical over Her depictions. Despite his great disagreement to such a notion, he was bound to present Her as great and holy. Whatever material that pertained to Her necessarily needed share such a quality, and the exact definition of anything holy an important aspect. It was one that Bubkiss respectfully regarded. He continued crafting his illusion with fitting reverence and dedication, adding further detail in the form of the eight points surrounding the 'pupil' of the holy symbol. Colours shifted while shape remained the same, and Bubkiss explained the varied effects he could weave. The possibilities enabled by illusory magic ceartainly did not carry the limitations physical depictions did.

“Truly a variety of options.” He had little idea what designs might suit best, he'd spent as little time considering Her as he could. A hand cupped his chin as he watched the animated illusion and pondered how to respond to such an offer. Perhaps something simple for display that he could carry with him might aid him in his reluctant task of preaching about Her. If She demanded further work, it was good to know whom he could commission it from.

The food had arrived, and Kiros began eating the moment the plate had been placed in front of him. The voyage had left him famished, and the meal every bit as delicious as he'd hoped. That his current holy task consisted of food and ale in a tavern made it his most pleasing one yet.

If only more of them could be as easy.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

A mound of food was provided all steam and herbs to fill the palette with such comforts. Bubkiss felt in this moment that his company felt the sharp prang of relief, of comfort at the experience of such a hard won soothing of something other than rations. Bubkiss felt as if he understood it, but in this moment was some gulf away from true understanding. For while the illusionist had been through some hard days in his travels, none compared to the conflict that had been so recently experienced by the priest. He felt as if he understood it none the less, and allowed Kiros time to enjoy the sensation of not being at travel.

But conversation rose again from the gnome as he affixed a napkin to his neck and ate three cuts of the meal. Three cuts into the meal and then conversation might appear again. Or so Bubkiss' master had told him in guidance towards the business meeting. Three cuts into the potatoes that did steam.

“I have a device that plays music you know. For sermons, at the start. I might as well lend you all potents and powers I have to lend to your church, as it starts off. Or you get your bearings, hm? Don't worry, it was my first spot of independent showmanship some months ago. I understand the, uh, how you say, jitters? The unknowns of doing this for real in front of people, I mean you have an idea of how it'll go down, but before you write some of this stuff down and hash it out,” Bubkiss said, performing his fourth and fifth cut as he spoke.

Then came of eating and dining and drinking, as Bubkiss gave his new found friend time to appreciate what he had just said. Proper breathing proceedure for the manner of gnomish speech that Bubkiss intimated was required to provide space for taller folks to listen. The frown was the give away, Bubkiss knew. Once a taller person started frowning to understand what was just spoken at breakneck speed, it was time to breathe and let their noggins sort it through, Bubkiss thought.

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Kiros happily dug into his meal, taking a bite of the freshly baked bread first. It was a luxury he'd dearly missed, a familiar staple of the cuisine he'd known in his youth. A moment was taken to savour it, before he sliced off a bite off his roast to follow.

“I have a device that plays music you know. For sermons, at the start. I might as well lend you all potents and powers I have to lend to your church, as it starts off. Or you get your bearings, hm? Don't worry, it was my first spot of independent showmanship some months ago.” Spoke Bubkiss upon the first few bites of his meal.

Not until now did the full weight of the notion strike Kiros. His church. There would be more followers seeking Her out, carrying fallacious belief that She might guide them. He'd not have the option to turn them away, for She would condemn him and they would surely seek Her out directly. Kiros was no longer alone in carrying connection and knowledge of Her. Others had seen Her, and an unknown number had heard Her – but none beyond him knew how terrible She was!

No longer could he hide Her, but his position might at least enable him to mitigate whatever consequences came from the misguided demands She was bound to make. He had been dealing with Her for sixteen years, and knew Her well enough to become properly jaded at his position. Anyone else was sure to make the foolish error of actually revering Her, and might not learn better until it was too late.

Kiros hadn't.

“I understand the, uh, how you say, jitters? The unknowns of doing this for real in front of people” Bubkiss remarked, in innocent ignorance of the situation under which Kiros had been made to announce Her. He was quite sure Bubkiss held not the slightest clue of the sensation he attempted to describe, for Kiros was given not the slightest clue that he'd ever have to make such an announcement.

He could not possibly know what it was like to embark to lands he’d never been,

In effort to complete a task he did not understand.

Mandated by a fickle goddess he did not care for,

Who’d demanded proclamation he’d not expected

…Twice!

He obliged the quest to avoid a smiting, and delivered The Crook to Her to avert cataclysm. At no time had he ever desired to inflict Her upon the poor undeserving denizens of Arethil. Secrecy had initially been among Her tenets. That it was so had been was a small assurance to him, and She had discarded it without any warning whatsoever. Kiros looked to Bubkiss with a brief pause, before speaking with an misguiding, amicable nod.

“Truly so, of degree I cannot describe.” was his response. He took a sip from his beer before continuing, for alcohol was clearly his friend in this endeavour of presenting Her gracefully.

“It was not a moment that could be prepared for. Long have I known Her, but the pressure of announcing Her before an audience for the first time cannot be understated.”

It was technical truth.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

Kris arrived with the fresh juice and schnapps that Bubkiss had ordered, smiling at both courteously before asking after the enjoyment of the meal.

Bubkiss replied that, 'all was well and good and fine and dandy, many thanks, many thanks,' and Kris proceeded to fill Kiros' mug in turn, for she knew that unlike many who attended this place, money was not something that was counted in short stock by the short fellow.

The sound of a dartboard being punctured by some well placed shots gave out certain thuds. The chuckle of a bawdy joke well delivered and well received resounded. A slap on the back followed along with another call for ale. Kris ventured off to meet them with a faintly audible sigh.

Bubkiss left Kiros some time to consider the words that had been passed between them. He chewed and considered offering some oratory lessons, or perhaps feedback on the panache of the performance that Kiros might unleash upon those who might convert. He was caught by the thought and resisted it, shaking his head at his own thought and becoming lost in the labyrinthine cogs that whirred at such quick pace that was the engine of a gnomish mind. He did so three times, placing the fork purposefully in the air as if it were a baton for the orchestra of his thoughts, before tucking back into the food as he dismissed the thought completely. The illusionist's imagination for what he might do for Kiros was well fuelled by what was already said between the two, and he had no abatement in his enthusiasm by any hint of cynicism. Elves with their long lives often had reticence towards new ideas. Dwarves were stubborn about their own ideas being correct. Gnomes, on the other hand, embraced the whirling dervish of ideas that happened upon them, and found it difficult to resist being swept up in things, things of their own creation or otherwise.

“It gets easier,” Bubkiss said. “Why, the first performance I delivered, the magic worked, for I'm well versed in that, but the words, they lacked the,” he said and interuppted his own flow of speech with a heavy pull from the juice, followed by a chaser of schnapps. He frowned and realised he got it in the wrong order and continued despite his soured face which was half enjoyment and half shock, “zest. That certain punch.”

He rubbed his face and make a loud smacking sound with his lips and drank the schnapps followed by the juice, this time remembering the right order.

“Can you weave spells my good man? Wondering if we might have something in common with our practice. Your faith's symbol is an eye. I'm an illusionist. Might be some, as my old master might have said, some collaborative enterprise to be wrought from a meeting of the arcane minds, eh?”

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

The waitress refilled his glass too, and it dawned on Kiros that he was likely seen as well-off as Bubkiss was. While in sound financial health for the moment, such a state was never bound to last. His next holy quest was bound to be issued without warning, its priority declared paramount with the financial cost of preparations a burden for him alone to bear. As it always was. That he had Bubkiss to finance this fine meal was counted as a fortune. For this evening at least, he might relax in comfort that freedom from worry afforded.

“Why, the first performance I delivered, the magic worked, for I'm well versed in that, but the words, they lacked the...zest. That certain punch.” Spoke Bubkiss. The commentary implied that his magic had a degree of subtlety and flexibility common to most practitioners of the arcane arts. That facet had already been made evident when he had changed and controlled the smoke he exhaled, and altered illusions to suit what descriptions he'd confirmed.

The formula to his own magic was not a simple static method, but a chaotic combination that varied depending on many matters. Much must be accounted for and kept in mind for a successful casting of any of Her given spells. The phase of Pneria was a key consideration, as was its position in the sky. Lessat’s position was a further. yet lesser factor, and any occlusion Pneria made of it was also necessary to mind. Of further annoyance was subtle variances in what would have otherwise been a simple cyclic pattern of locations. Not that Kiros knew what caused them, only that he must account for them when casting spells. All of which required a much deeper awareness of astronomy than he ever imagined he’d learn, not that’d he particularly cared to in the first place. It was but necessity.

“Of no doubt the art requires practised finesse. Magic has much nuance to it, no matter the form.” Kiros remarked with a nod. He held no doubt that Bubkiss' experience in learning the art was vastly different from his own. Though there were many different ways of invoking its use, all seemed to carry their own particular complexities. Were it so simple to learn, he mused its use would surely be far more widespread.

“Can you weave spells my good man? Wondering if we might have something in common with our practice. Your faith's symbol is an eye. I'm an illusionist. Might be some, as my old master might have said, some collaborative enterprise to be wrought from a meeting of the arcane minds, eh?” Bubkiss asked, a rather fair question given the topic. Kiros could, though he could not weave magic so freely as a college magician might. Her granted powers were among the few, if only benefits his position as Her priest brought. Though his magic was complex to cast, the effect it could carry was substantially limited. Only Her Blessing of Health and Incantation of Immute could be varied in their effect – a requirement for the provision of healing and manipulation of magic, respectively. The mending of wounds needed deliberate and targeted effect dependant upon the degree and nature of the relevant injury. Flesh must be mended, bones properly rejoined and blood aptly replaced. Immute carried the ability to alter the effect of magic cast by others, though this was commonly used to merely quash them as simple counter-magic. He could alter the effect if he was familiar with the spell, had a firm idea in mind of what he wished to accomplish, and was prepared for the complexity of putting it all together.

The price of his magic was a further grievance, and he was restricted from utilizing too much of it in too short a timespan, lest he be wracked with headaches that eventually rendered him unable to use any more. Though he could mend traumatic wounds quickly, the inefficiency of his magic meant that he could heal few before his ability to use it expired. As he was aware, She hardly crafted Her magic with even the slightest quantity of care to it, and the exorbitant cost was simply an inconvenience he was left to contend with.

“Divine magic is among Her blessings, of which I've been anointed to wield.” Kiros replied, giving answer to the question. But Bubkiss spoke further of the eye, prompting Kiros to give further elaboration.

“Insight is considered Her domain, and Her symbol a representation of it. Determinance of truth and manipulation of magical effect are among the powers Her magic carries.” Kiros added, explaining what he knew of its origins, and how it might best relate to the powers he'd been granted. By far, his power to alter magic was likely to be of the most interest to the inquisitive gnome. His powers of healing would be far less appropriate to demonstrate.

“I might not be able to create illusions, but I hold power to alter what has been through magic.” He further explained, in an implied offer to show him.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

A thousand thoughts crashed and tumbled into one another within the gnome's congested traffic of a mind at the statements that Kiros made and he blinked a few times as if redirecting the passage of such thoughts into some reasonable order. All manner of arcane theory did wonder how it might intermesh with the divine ability of the fellow in front of him. Complicated theories compounded thoroughly into axioms untested, maxims to be rebuffed and reinforced by practical demonstration! Bubkiss' composure yielded to the enthusiasm of the craft, and in a rare moment, his mouth did not function, instead his body leaping from the chair at the arrival of such a splendid prospect.

He caught himself in such a motion and reseated himself and cleared his throat and looked sheepish, his hands clasping at his hat and bringing it to his midriff.

“Sorry, I'm just, well. It's exciting! All this! I'm just, well, enthused. Yes! You, the prospect of working with you! Such a pitch! You, and I quote, 'hold power to alter what has been through magic', why, boy, that's a fine and goodly attitude! A fine thing to bring in crowds! But barking, carnival style, is not what you're doing, just service of course, for the divine and right order of things, I don't mean to. Well, yes. What I mean to say is that your ability,” Bubkiss said, trying to slow down his speech to make sense of it himself, “will serve your God well in all the fabric that must be woven! But I prattle, yes, yes I prattle. If you've finished, when you're finished, don't let me rush you, but shall we find a spot to perform a little of that fine magic? If you're not too tired to indulge a gnome with his head in the light as it were. I know I get befuddled sometimes, but this is all terribly exciting!”

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Bubkiss seemed to find his answer most remarkable, pausing in what appeared to be deep contemplation before jumping forth from his seat. Kiros could recognize that his ongoing odyssey had been extraordinary by any measure of the term, though he hardly felt that quality in himself. It was all but a continued misadventure, brought about by impulsive crimes committed many years ago. And rather than face execution for his crimes, he had spent sixteen years fleeing from justice on the mortal coil to pursue redemption in the court of the Six.

Heike had such a sense of honour to her. Unlike him, she had been not only willing to face the penalties for what she'd done, she'd been fighting to do so. Kiros had regarded her as a monster, to distract himself from the realization that he was even worse. She dedicated her life to honour, as did Dal. Kiros had dedicated the latter part of his life towards redemption from the sins of his former, maintaining his deception to what he truly was.

A murderer.

“will serve your God well in all the fabric that must be woven!” spoke Bubkiss, continuing on in verbal expression of amazement.

Kiros could further recall Itra's admonishment for acting as a 'hero', despite his attempt to leave Her uninvolved. And here he was, continuing to play the part. Perhaps his mission to Malakath had been prompted by saving Sardrun in Ixchel, to cause him to suffer renown he didn't desire. That seemed more believable than the notion that She'd ever selflessly deign to help anyone, deity or not.

“If you've finished, when you're finished, don't let me rush you, but shall we find a spot to perform a little of that fine magic? If you're not too tired to indulge a gnome with his head in the light as it were. I know I get befuddled sometimes, but this is all terribly exciting!” Bubkiss inquired.

While She had afforded him magical incantations that he could utilize at most any time. She didn't care to restrict him in how and where he chose to employ it. Kiros presumed it was largely out of laziness. Though he cursed their unwieldiness more than he valued their availability, he remained able to use them for any purpose. Such frivolous use of a deity's bestowed blessing might have been offensive sacrilege, were he a priest of the Six. But he was Her priest, and he held not even the slightest bit of reverence for Her magic.

“A demonstration would be quite suitable.” Kiros responded, shifting his posture upright at the notion. Prior musings might have soured his mood, but the opportunity to subtly slight Her and get away with it was a suitable distraction.

“Her incantation of Immute may alter magic, changing effect or direction or any other such quality, but only to a certain degree. Akin to a chisel striking stone in a way. The end product might differ, but will always result in effect of lesser magnitude than the source.” Kiros explained, attempting to articulate the nuances of the spell as best as he could. Often, this was used to outright cancel a spell's effect. When such an effect was immediate, this was the only effect he could impart in time. Effects of continuous magic might be changed at the cost of power it was inherently imbued with. Location, direction, and intensity were but a few of a spell's qualities he could change. Turning an enchantment into something entirely different was technically feasible, though the result would be so minuscule in effect as to be effectively mundane.

“I can also conjure a curtain of light, to provide protection behind Her metaphorical wing.” Kiros added. The symbolism was conjecture devised on the spot. Perhaps it was a candid lie, but the position She'd placed him in required false statement. There was no way he could portray Her as a protector if he spoke honestly of Her.

Truth was a punishable transgression, when She was the subject.

MrTophat
(Also VigiloConfido for visibility)

 

[MrTophat]

Upon hearing the technical aspects of Kiros' magic, Bubkiss became a symbol of studiousness. Patient and attentive, nodding at all the appropriate moments, and most importantly, allowing for understanding to yielded to comprehension.

“I see, I see!” Bubkiss said after a moment, and used his hands to gesticulate, as if he were handling the machinery of arcanum at that very moment. “Lesser magnitude than the source, so a dampening affect, interesting interesting. That could allow for some timed effects where I might channel a great deal of light into a spell effect which would act as a floodgate using your power, and then, release, dazzling all! Very good, very good. And this curtain of light, wow, that sounds mighty impressive! I dare say that might have some application in war, from what I've heard about it, a place I've never been but I been requested to join by some, well, fellows. Not sure where it is to be honest, the details were woolly when the soldiers wanted my help. Had to dazzle them and make my exit, they were getting rather grabby. I serve no court, I said to them, I serve the arts, and well, they didn't like that. Freelancers are gobbled up it seems.”

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Bubkiss remained as invested as ever in his explanation, listening patiently as Kiros detailed the aspects of his own magic. It was certainly nice to be able to know how everything worked, and he wished the process of learning to use Her magic had been as simple as such a verbal explanation. Naturally, it had not. The nuances and details were often left up to him to discover. Even his spell of Luminant Flash, which She intended as simpler and easy to use held unknown complications that had nearly gotten him killed in the spine.

But he'd had years to become familiar with the qualities of his magic, and by now held confidence in his wisdom therein. His own deity did little to truly protect him, but magic was a tool that could be freely used. He'd since grown aware of every present intricacy within his incantations, as his life was so often dependant upon their decisive use.

Once his answer had concluded, Bubkiss piped up with continued interest. Kiros paused to absorb his words, knowing well the functionality and possibilities his magic would afford. His head nodded as Bubkiss mused aloud about how it might affect his own magic. Though Kiros had little familiarity with the gnome's illusory magic, the process he described was accurate, and there was little doubt that such a thing would be feasible.

Kiros paused further in reflection at his mention of the utility his Luminant Curtain might hold in warfare. The logic was sound, and had further been proven countless times. He may have lacked magic that enabled direct offence, but it had often been the case that the curtain fouled the formation of his attackers. By now, the spell's use was almost reflexive whenever he found himself ambushed, as it often served suitable to foiling one.

“Indeed, almost more akin to a tool. And I do believe that would be possible though my magic. Strange that you speak of warfare, too. I'm neither beholden to banner, but I cannot deny the tactical benefit the spell has provided in battle.” Kiros replied in answer. Bubkiss seemed an individual intent on learning, determined to discover the details of his subject of interest. Confirming that he was correct seemed prudent, and knowledge that he was right seemed courteous to provide.

“Shall we?” Kiros added, reaching to Heirahit to gesture his readiness to give a magical display once Bubkiss was ready.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

“A priest that does battle! Boy, what a thing,” Bubkiss said, completely ignorant as to the scale of what a true battle was. For while he had seen the dioramas of such things, tapestries of two dimensions that could be translated into artistic shimmering movement in illusion, such were slurring pronouncement of the truth of warfare. But then theatrics paid no heed to the truth of things if it painted a better picture.

“Yes, let's begin. Show me what you have Kiros! Let's see the hue of the fabric of reality being shaped to your church's will! Yes!” he said as excited as a schoolboy who had just encountered the freedom of a long stretch of holiday.

He caught his enthusiasm and adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. His expression became more serious, yet a smile was drawn from his desire to seem professional. The joy was irrepressible.

"Don't mind me, I'll analyse as you go, a sight for all eyes, no doubt, yet one I should pay all attention to, with all the clever things I have, for the business of things of course, for the business before us,” he said and reached into the satchels that were around his belt for two halves of a hollow egg of copper. He twisted them together within his stubby hands and it made a whirring sound as it began to detect the arcane signatures which were soon to be wreathed. An educational tool that had been repurposed to be a method of determining and repeating the magic in play. Such a tool was used to decipher the arcane in play, perhaps to emulate it.

But then Bubkiss had never encountered the power gifted by a God before.

The egg whirred in high whine as Bubkiss didn't even consider that a tool his master had provided him might not be up to such a request of it.

“Proceed my goodly fellow! All is set!”

Kiros Rahnel

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“A priest that does battle! Boy, what a thing,” Bubkiss responded with unexpected mirth at his mention of battle, eliciting a brief pause from Kiros. Perhaps he likened it to the sort of fables and legends he'd heard of, where a hero is led by divine guidance to do wonderful things. Yet he was no hero, and what wonder there was to be had was of whatever it is She wanted. Her divine word, when given, was seldom helpful.

Not that Kiros would correct his inferred notion. It was hardly the time nor the place. He'd been bound to presenting himself as Her emissary, and the grim reality of battle was a subject best omitted.

“Verily. The missions of the divine must be completed, no matter the obstacle.” Kiros replied. His words were honest, though his prideful tone was feigned and deceitful.

Kiros chose a shady spot for the demonstration of the curtain, courtesy of trees by the roadside that blocked the evening sun behind them. Bubkiss set up an odd contraption in the meantime. An aid to sense magic. In that way, it was akin to Heirahit. What She had granted as a great holy boon was a power so common that college mages carried it around in their pockets! Should he not have expected more from a goddess of great and unfathomable power upon restoring balance to Arethil and averting the catastrophe that threatened to destroy it? Perhaps, but in retrospect such was futile when said goddess was Itra.

“Proceed my goodly fellow! All is set!” Bubkiss announced, and once he'd given the signal Kiros began to channel his magic. He brought Heirahit in front of him, held with its base against the ground as he uttered the ancient words to bring the spell forth. The components were somewhat necessary, though the gesture and words had no need to be exact. As he had learned, he merely needed to attempt a meaningful display – focus and concentration mattered more. Numerous factors had to be taken into account, but by now he was well aware of them, and experienced in their inclusion. The curtain was at least less taxing than his blessings.

With a dull thump from his staff against the soft grass beneath, Kiros immediately extended the arcane focus out with both hands. A line of light immediately raced down from the sky to connect with the ground a metre in front of it, spreading out in opposite directions the moment it had. Before a half second had passed, the Luminant Curtain had spread out to its maximum size, comparable to the broad side of the tavern they'd just left. Light shimmered in the shade of the trees, billowing back and forth with a continued scintillating glow. Kiros remained still in his stance, staff held forth for a few moments more before he turned towards Bubkiss, an arm held out towards the curtain he'd conjured in presentation thereof.

“Her Luminant Curtain, and metaphorical wing offered to provide protection during Her given tasks.” Kiros announced, speaking of the theological lore he'd made up.

Yet again, he pursed his holy task with only the minimal of direction. He could do little else, when he'd been mandated to speak of matters She had never mentioned clearly.

MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

The world did yield to Kiros' divine magic and set both flames of amazement and studious attention within the gnome. His features were a mixture of rapture and concentration, a wide smile upon his features, the response of an enthralled audience, his eyes quick and reading the fabric of magic that was so impressed from a God's wishes. A true God! A true worker of light to summon their power!

Bubkiss was beyond grateful, beyond excited for the demonstration's delivery, both in spanning power and in intense luminosity. This was a moment of bliss that was encircling the industry of learning within the gnome's mind. Already he was calculating luminosity density, the scaffold of support to allow reality to be so altered without so much as a single mirror or crystal! He would have time to consider it all, but his mind rushed at a speed beyond the pace of most mortal men. Bubkiss' mind was gnomish, a thing that was capable of carrying carry many overspilling thoughts without losing a drop of intellect to 'bamboozlement' as Bubkiss termed it. Quickened speech came with quickened thoughts. Receiving a torrent of information and relaying it to memory and practical application was a forte of his kind.

But, Bubkiss' aptitude could not be said to be purely owed to his heritage. It came also from his upbringing. His attention and study of the the field of magic throughout his life had been monumental. From infancy he had been instructed by firm hand yet kind understanding that magic was one of the most important things in the world. This illusionist's mind was a perfect whirring gnomish thing that was well suited to understanding this destined field of magic. Yet, despite the number of times he had seen light in all it's majesty from a master illusionist who taught him, he still now yet marvelled at the sight as if he were a child once more.... and the implication that a God could power a raw channel of light from the heavens! It filled him with all manner of hopes and dreams, and a heavy dose of nostalgia that brought warmth to his heart.

There are people are powerful as Master Murk after all!

The light faded, and Bubkiss treasured the feeling he experienced. The egg could not record the reaction, merely the process. But in the mind of one Bubkiss, he took off his hat in one hand at the majesty of magic that had just been performed. A smile beamed across his features, his artistic spirit fortified and his business sense assured.

Clicking with finality, the egg did cease recording, and Bubkiss did speak in sincere and slow tone even as his mind did race even quicker. His Master had impressed upon him the proper speech when it came to magic. 'Don't babble about the craft, for fear of confusing speed with precision. Practice often and you will go far,' his master had said to him, and the words were the few litany's he paid mind to.

“Well I say, I do so say,” Bubkiss said and chuckled merrily and drew himself up to full height, his belly jutting out, his eyes agleaming, “That is most remarkable, most remarkable! Her Luminant Curtain! Bravo, bravo, simply outstanding. I dare say that is the most impressive thing I've seen in my travels since my Master's leaving!”

He chose his accolade carefully, for he had seen the most elaborate and powerful displays of minor miracles from Master, Murk Altov. This compared, certainly, but Bubkiss dared not suggest his Master of all people had equal in power. It was not minded out of fear of reprisal, but absolute loyalty to the man who had raised and taught him all he knew.

“I'll need some time to think. But, I do dare say Kiros that we might perform a powerful team. Now, I say this in the spirit of jolly co-ordination, in the comrade of the arcane, and in good health of our business relation, that I should prove my own salt. But shortly, shortly, yes, I need time. Oh but, but I certainly can't bear the thought of you thinking me fraudulant! Or incapable of keeping up! I can't summon light from the sky in such a way yet, that's true. I don't have a God to grant me such a true column of perfect light you see! But you, you do! Simply stunning. I'm doing all I can not to just gush about the whole thing really. Oh, but I do go on, I'm sure you hear such praise of such an act performed all the time. But I'll leave a little time between performances. I need time to think I believe. To learn all I can. I dare not waste this chance! Don't mind me a moment, I must...I must calculate. I can still talk, I just need time to process and not waste the opportunity to learn from what you have just shown me! Oh, this is all terribly exciting!”

Bubkiss began to pace, and gave nods to himself and excited mutterings to himself as he began the process of deconstructing the art that had just been performed. His hands made gestures and he paced as the possessed professor, consumed with theories and formula, might.

A learned habit from his Master when oft evening Bubkiss spied him in his study. A man who calculated extraordinary distance of thought and ambition by movement of his own feet across the ground.

And so too did Bubkiss follow in such cerebral footsteps.

Kiros Rahnel