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Alistair Krixus

Alistair Krixus

The Rune Knight
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The weather was rather gloomy on Alistair's day off...Day off? Yeah, don't be ridiculous. Alistair had needed to call in several favors to get approved for leave from classes for the next few days. He was sure he would owe several people later. They probably all assumed that Alistair had just needed a day off to relax. So why in the hell was he was on a horse, making his way to the outskirts of Vel Anir?

Well, it started the way most things do. A story he had overheard, and then an old mission report he had dug up, and then some very pointed questions accompanied by the discreet transferring of coin. It had let him here, the ancestral home of House Whispergrove. He was surprised to admit that he did not know much about the family, but that did not matter to him right now.

He was here to see someone in particular. Someone who, at least according to his digging, had a rather unique magical ability. It was anti-magic. Something that Alistair had been trying to replicate for months with little progress, but this person had supposedly figured it out. If he could just convince him to help him even the tiniest bit, then he was confident that he could figure out the rest.

Alistair's horse came to a stop at the gates of the Whispergrove manner. He knocked loudly and called out.

"Hello? I'm looking for a Gideon Thorne?"

He was not sure why, but upon saying this, he sat up straighter in his saddle like he expected someone to be watching him at any moment.
 
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Quite some time had passed since Thorne and his makeshift family had returned to the manor of the minor House Whispergrove. It wasn't the same as it had been when he was young - it was rather hard to put something back together that had been reduced to rubble and ash. Yet it stood, and its rightful owner occupied it once again. There was something surreal about that, about all this, even over a year later...Vel Anir, free of its former shackles. Thorne didn't believe he'd live to see the day.

Now it was time to live out the remainder of his days in relative ease, tending to Autumn and Ania as they needed, and living in relative seclusion. So who was this young pup rattling at their gates now? Post-revolution or no, Thorne was no wanton fool. Caution and skepticism had been his best friends for roughly two decades, and old habits died hard. Not to mention, strange, uninvited visitors who knew Thorne's full name had always been a sure sign of trouble in the past.

Seemingly sourceless from somewhere on the property, a gruff voice called back while stern, green eyes watched the visitor carefully.
"Who's asking?"
 
The bodiless voice made Alistair a bit uncomfortable since he could not find exactly where it was coming from, but he tried not to show his unease. The few things that he had learned about Thorne were minimal, but all signs pointed to the fact that he was not someone that Alistair wanted trouble from.

"I am Alistair of House Krixus...I've come to ask for your assistance in a field of magic I believe you have experience with."

Anti-magic was close to a taboo among the dreadlords. While maybe not officially frowned upon at the academy, the idea of many of the magically gifted students potentially losing their power was enough to make any who had the skill, a black sheep.

That did not matter to Alistair, the knowledge would make him stronger. His ambition easily overwhelmed any desire for social grace.

Thorne
 
Magic...from Thorne? The old veteran was no mage. Not really, anyways. He'd always considered himself a soldier first and foremost, but he was well aware of the threat that the ability his former master had bestowed upon him posed. If Thorne didn't trust this...'Alistair' before, that feeling was now amplified.

The veteran armed an arbalest that he'd hidden on the property and broke from where he'd been sitting and observing the young man. Walking across the sprawling gardens that preceded the home proper, weapon's aim trained on the visitor, Thorne approached.

"That's not something I'm keen on sharing." He growled back, keeping his distance beyond the still-closed gate. He had half a mind to simply tell the lad to fuck off, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What's it to you?"
 
Alistair immediately tensed when he finally spotted the individual with an arbalest. His brain was telling him to get out of the way, but he held himself back from acting. However, his magic prepared to activate the runes. It would have to be quick.

Maybe in his own innocence, he had not considered the idea that he may have to fight when he came out here. Violence always found dreadlords.

He made sure that both of his hands were casually laying across his horse, and not anywhere near his sword hilt.

"Hello, I came here simply for the sake of knowledge."

It was true, in part. Alistair may be a warrior, but he also considered himself an academic. He believed that his understanding of anti-magic would not only provide him with a powerful new weapon but just as importantly, a greater understanding of his own magic in general.

"No need to point sharp objects."
 
"Hmph." Was the only response Alistair got for the moment. Looking closer, this really was a kid. If he was a Dreadlord, he must've been fresh out of the Academy. Thorne frequently had to remind himself that not all Dreadlords had been the soulless monsters he'd thought them to be. He'd learned as much from Ania, from Sloane, from Zana and Talus. Perhaps he was being paranoid, rather than just cautious.

"You want to learn, you can abide by my rules." He hollered over, arbalest still at the ready. "Weapons on the ground, behind the horse. Dismount, sit on the ground by the gate, hands in your lap."

No funny business. That was the goal. Many of the Dreads in the old Vel Anir would have followed the instructions only to try something stupid anyways. Never did it actually work, of course, but that wasn't because Thorne had been reckless.
"And if you know who I am, you know I've killed plenty of your kind, all plenty greater than you."
 
Greater than him? Well, that was a little rude. Gideon did not even know him, but now did not seem the time to question him. He sighed as he slid from his horse and placed his sword and dagger on the ground.

The directions were a little degrading, but if this was all he had to do for this knowledge then it was a small price to pay. For just a moment, he considered asking if he really had to sit down. He was wearing nice pants today, and sitting in the dirt would certainly require some cleaning. Not the time Alistair.

He plopped down onto the ground and made a big deal about putting his hands into his lap.

"I am aware of who you are. You also had an arbalest pointed at me so..."

In his opinion, it was best to use a little bit of lightheartedness to defuse the situation. It took a lot of self-control from him when a twitchy finger could end his life.

Thorne
 
Bluster counted for a lot, Thorne had found. Whether or not those third, second, and first level Dreads that had come before Alistair and died choking on their own blood were actually greater than him was of little consequence. What mattered was the threat.

Thankfully, the young man complied. Thorne lowered the heavy crossbow and moved his finger from its trigger. Disarmed and in an unthreatening position, Thorne felt comfortable moving closer to Alistair. No sense yelling across the yard by now, so he trudged up to the gate.

"Yes, I did. And I'll do much more than that if you try anything stupid. So..." Thorne planted the stirrup of the arbalest into the ground and leaned weightily on the thing. "Ask your questions."

The sooner this was over with the better.
 
Alistair felt like some child sitting on the ground looking up to Thorne. It reminded him of when he was really young when he was first brought to the Academy. Thorne even had a deadly weapon by his side, just like the proctors.

Still, he was standing pretty close now, so Alistair could get a good look at the man. He looked him up and down before leaning back on his hands in a more relaxed position. Their was no point in beating around the bush here, because Thorne did not look like the type to put up with that type of bullshit.

"I heard you can do anti-magic...How? Will you show me?" He normally wasn't this straightforward, but he believed this to be the best for these circumstances.
 
So it was about that. Well, at least the boy was straight to the point. That way neither of them had to waste any time. Thorne's gaze hardened, his brow furrowed.
"You don't want to know, and no." He retorted curtly. "I didn't spend the last twenty years being hunted so I could start sharing that information with every random whelp that wandered up to my home."
 
"You were hunted for it? Why? Is it illegal magic?"

Alistair's curious and academic nature was beginning to get the better of him. It was true anti-magic was frowned upon but to be hunted for it means that there was some type of story with it.

It was something he could just drop. The man was scary, that by itself would be enough. He could just pick a different magic to study, but...something was telling him that this was what he wanted.

"I really do want to know. Please, I'll do whatever you need me to do."
 
Thorne brought a hand up to rub at weary eyes. Perhaps this really was just a curious kid, seeking information on something he was genuinely interested in. An incredibly naïve kid, but a good natured one, at least.
"I assumed you knew that much, at least. Hmph." The old veteran grumbled as he folded his arms across his chest.

"I need to know where it is you're coming from and who you're affiliated with. I need to know why you're seeking this information. And I need you to understand that how much I tell you could potentially get you, me, and the people living in the house behind me killed." Thorne explained, still hesitant to give anything of any substance away.
 
Alistair was a little confused by the question but shrugged and was about to just blurt out the answer when he remembered what he had learned about this man. He hunted Dreadlords, Alistair was a dreadlord initiate...but that was before the revolution, right? The dreadlords are different now, or at least, they are trying to be.

Still, lying was going to get Alistair nowhere and he just needed to be brave. That also included being prepared to flee at a moment's notice.

"I am an...initiate dreadlord...As for why I am seeking this, does one need a reason for knowledge? I am interested in the ability and I just want to learn how it works, to increase my understanding. I have no reason to share this information with anyone else." Alistair said truthfully, but his body tensed in preparation of suddenly being attacked.

Thorne
 
At least he was forthright. It's funny, just a year or two ago Thorne would've likely lashed out at that little revelation, but nowadays it somehow made him want to give the boy a modicum of trust. And if all he wanted was to learn about this...burden of Thorne's, well...

The veteran held his left forearm up and slid the bracer on it off with his right, then began to unfurl the bandages around it. As they fell away, wicked scarring would reveal itself; Alistair might recognize the etchings upon Thorne's flesh as runes, but not like any he'd seen before. These were simultaneously barbaric in how much damage they'd caused to Thorne's skin and incredibly refined in their complexity.

"These are the source, and they are not something that you 'learn.' They can only be forced on you, and they're as much a curse as a boon." Harsh, red energy subtly danced along the leylines of the runic scars like tiny bolts of lightning. "Simply having these will put a target on your back as big as any Anirian fortress."
 
The red runes that Thorne showed to Alistair did not make him frown or show any sign of disgust. Instead, it just made Alistair tense as he tried to suppress memories that he had attempted to ignore for several years. The training at the Academy was tortuous and left many scars, but the deepest were the dark, crude runes on his skin that his own father had placed there when he was a child.

A small part of him was intrigued as he looked at the runes, but a larger part of him could only focus on one thing. This man was like him, he had been experimented on all just to create something new...Would Alistair end up like him?

"Why? It's still magic, at the end of the day. Why would they hunt you for it? There are so many possible uses for magic like this."

Thorne
 
Thorne grimaced. How woefully naïve. If experience had taught him anything, it was that there were really only two things that this horrible curse was good for.
"You didn't really get to experience Vel Anir as it was, did you?" The veteran growled, his scarred hand balling into a fist. "Think, boy. Your kind relies on magic. In a world full of recklessly ambitious Dreadlords, what do you think would happen to someone with the power to take magic away?"
 
"True, that is something for them to fear, but things have changed. Dreadlords aren't running the city...Besides, maybe they should just get better without using magic." Alistair contested.

Thorne had a point. It was easy to imagine the combat advantages that such runes could bring for someone. A magical assassin that removes his target's greatest weapons. It was tempting, but Alistair was also considering other possibilities.

"There are magical diseases and weapons that are untreatable by healers and doctors because of their magical nature. You could, in theory, nullify the magic long enough for a doctor to remove the issue like any other common ailment."

Their were materials that could be used or studied because of magical effects. Thorne could potentially wield them like they were nothing.

"The people that see this as only a weapon are...being incredibly dense."

Thorne
 
"I'm well aware of the revolution. That doesn't mean I can trust any random soul that wanders on to this property." Thorne replied shortly. More of that wretched lightning danced across his skin, a constant, uncomfortable reminder of the runes' presence.

Then the boy spoke of alternative uses for the curse.
"I am also aware of that fact. There are...some who I tend to daily that require its use." There was no shame in admitting that. It was one of the few genuinely good things Thorne had done with his life. "However, just because something can be used for good doesn't mean it will. You're old enough to know that."
 
"Of course not. I would not expect you to, and I understand that some people would look to take advantage of it, but what this sounds like is you just need more people on your side. People that can ensure that you aren't taken advantage of."

Alistair was no longer arguing for getting taught such secrets. He still wanted to learn, but that was secondary to the importance that this skill could be used for the good of the city and the people...His mother was a drug addict. She especially likes to use magical stimulants. With this power, Alistair could potentially lessen the effects and get her back to her old self.

"Something like this might not be liked by some, but that should not stop it from being used."

Thorne
 
More people on his side, huh? Thorne gave an incredulous huff. For a Dread, this kid was woefully optimistic.
"If two decades in hiding has taught me anything, it's that I can only rely on myself." He grumbled. The good men and women he'd fought beside during the revolution were valiant and honorable, sure, but beyond Zana...well, none of them had exactly earned his trust. No one had. Life was one long series of backstabbings and waiting for someone else to stab you in the back. So why was it these kids kept showing up and inserting themselves into Thorne's untrusting life?

"Even if that were true, you aren't weighing the risks against the benefits. Beyond even the potential harm having these runes could pose, have you any idea the suffering it takes to acquire them? To use them?"
He snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the scars on his own arm. Gods how he resented these blasted things, grateful as he was for the ability to suppress both Ania and Autumn's afflictions. Why did that insidious worm Ordo have to make the runes so gods-be-damned agonizing to wield??
 
Alistair understood Thorne's thinking, it was a common belief that many Dreadlords shared, but Alistair had never focused too much on that belief. It might be his optimism, but to Alistair it was efficiency. It was not efficient to stab people in the back unless they were already planning on doing it to you. It was It was better to work with people, and this new Vel Anir that was created after the revolution was the perfect example of that.

"You can rely on yourself, and still put little bits of faith in people. Just always have a backup plan." That was how Alistair handled everyone.

The second comment made Alistair grimace for a second. He was weighing things properly. Thorne was not the only one that had had things done to him. He unbuttoned the top portion of his shirt to reveal several old scars and runes that had been engraved on his chest. Some of these runes were nearly a decade old at this point. They did not hurt anymore, but every now and then Alistair could swear that he felt a phantom pain.

"I am all too aware of the risks and the benefits." He responded darkly.

Thorne
 
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