Log:Broken Blade: Garden Stroll
Lower Alexandrian Gardens District
Kyson Aldean Godwyn
What a day to be out and about. The skies are a clear, cloudless blue, the gardens brimming with the promise of life, the smells of fragrant spring flowers and rich soil tint the air, the birdsong -- and birds -- chasing each other through the trees. Later the gardens will be full of children and adults alike, soaking in the simple pleasures of life or simply rising from their beds in the Soldier's Defense for a little while.
But for now, mostly it's the bees that are busy here ... until the whistle of a human voice echoes across the cobblestoned path. It's a curious sound, to be sure, as if two voices or maybe more were whistling together in tandem, the same complex melody with a martial tone to it.
Kyson wanders down into the Lower City, the clap of his wooden staff striking the cobbles below his feet announcing his passage like a herald in court. The young mage has his shoulder bag slung on his left side, the pumpkin-sized sack holding the contents of his morning mission to the market. Having no real duties until a bit later, he wanders through the garden to enjoy a bit of the sights and smells.
The sound appears to be coming from a relatively quiet corner of the Gardens, an outlying section off the beaten path. It ends in a trill, then falls silent, followed by a murmured, "That's got it ... now ...." The voice is a mellifluous baritone, marred by the accent of a sailor or dockworker.
Kyson turns the corner on the garden path and peers curiously towards the origin of the tune - his eyes seeking out a... dockworker? A momentary wave of confusion washes over the young man's features as it's quite certain he did not expect to find what he did. That being said, he has enough social graces to mask his surprise and screw surprise into a friendly expression of greeting. "Morning," he offers in a polite, if curious, tone.
The man he's watching definitely has the look and the musculature of a sailor -- broad-framed and burly, well-muscled, with darker skin under a cap of blonde hair, and wearing only a loose shirt, sash, and loose wrap-style trousers tucked into leather boots. But ... the clothing is in better shape, the bright golds and reds suggestive of a foreign influence -- and he's in the process of securing a silken rope to a shimmering /something/ hanging in the air above him, what looks to be a rippling lavender-blue ring in the air about the size of a man's hand. It's supported by no visible weight, but seems solid enough to tie a rope to it ... and the man is staring intently at it, focusing on it. Kyson glances up and down the man, taking in all of the subtle variations in clothing, material, skin tone and the like. As though a war golem were scanning for threats, the young mage is nearly absorbing in the figure of the man with the skill and ease of a scholar of culture. Then he notices the floating lavender-blue ring and any questions about the man's attire or physique are forgotten. "By the stars..." he exclaims and takes a few steps closer, "how...?" he asks
The man looks up at the gasp of shock. "Aye?" He finishes tying the rope off, flashing a wide grin at the newcomer that is filled with easy good humor and no small amount of welcome. "Oy, fair winds follow ye, mate. Like that, do ye?" He looks up at the lavender-blue ring, still wearing that same grin. His features are mobile and expressive, and right now, openly pleased and amused. "Right useful, that be."
Kyson peers curiously at the item, taking a moment to shift the weight of his satchel on his shoulder as he holds up a hand to block the glare of the sun so that he can be sure of what he sees. "What is it...where did you get such a thing?" he asks curiously with more intensity now that is he fairly certain of the reality of the object. Standing there, gawking at the floating ring, the mage has totally forgotten his manners and shakes his head for a second to rid himself of the wondrous vision of the magical item. "F-forgive me," he stammers, "I did not wish to be rude."
"Ye ain't rude at all, mate." Indeed, the man seems quite pleased by the query. "Be a spell from the bardic college." The lavender blue ring chooses that moment to vanish into nothingness, leaving the still-tied rope to drop limply to the ground, leaving only a knotted loop at its end. "Was jes' practicin' me spellcraft this morn." With that, the man parks himself easily on a flat rock not far from where he was standing, the casual and easy posture signaling that whoever he is, the man is not the least bit put out by the interruption.
With an eyebrow raised in dubious question, Kyson takes a step forward and offers the man his most polite, if suspicious, bow. Being the well-trained apprentice that he is, he quickly rattles off a formal introduction though its import may be missed on those not of his order. "I'm Kyson, apprenticed to Master Cesran..." and as soon as that formality is over he glances back up to the space in the air where the ring once floated and then back to the man, "How was it done? Some sort of conjuration?"
"Aye, 'tis a conjure. I be Aldean, chaser o' trouble an' singer o' songs when I've a chance," Aldean replies. "Sit, mate," he gestures to the expanse of rock beside him with a blocky hand that is well-callused. "Do I look odd t'ye?"
Kyson peers, "Odd?" he doesn't seem to know how to process that word at the moment. "No...just interesting. I was trying to place where you might be from - it's a game I play sometimes when going through the city." The young wizard wanders over to take a seat next to the man and slides the shoulder bag to the ground between his boots. "There's so many people coming and going...it's not like where I grew up. Everyone knew everyone and there were -no- visitors."
"Me home? Be Seagarden." The name of a port town in the Jade Islands as Aldean's hometown might help place the sailor's attitude. The pair are parked on a rock at the far edge of the Gardens, and as he talks, Aldean grabs the end of the silken rope and begins to work the knot from the rope with practiced hands. "Aye, Alexandria be a big place, an' it ain't the biggest city on Ea, neither. Might ask the same o' ye, where ye from that yer home be so small?"
Kyson answers quickly though not exactly enthusiastically, "Blackbriar - just about three days south of here if you're walking," he slides the slender wooden staff in his hand down to rest against his shoulder while they speak. "Do you mind telling me the spell that you used to create that ring? It sounds quiet interesting - though I've not done much with that sphere of magic just yet."
"College names it the solid note," Aldean answers, hands still busy with undoing the knotted loop in the rope. "Tis like takin' a note out of the Hymn an' givin' it solid form," he explains. "But if ye be apprenticed ta Cesran ... yer a wizard, aye?"
Ah, timing. What a wonderful thing, huh? Especially when it's somewhat decent. Godwyn makes her way toward the familiar sounds and voices of conversation from the north, hands behind her back and her great sword sheathed just over her right shoulder. The sword hums a light tune, somewhat random, but with the notes still in sequence. "Glad you two have already met. I was going to introduce you sooner or later."
Kyson nods to Aldean, "Aye," he begins and glances up at the arrival of the paladin. "been working with him for a few months now." At first glance, he only looked towards Godwyn for long enough to recognize her and then back to the sailor to continue their conversation. Now, having a moment, he looks back to the paladin and raises an eyebrow in question. Something's different - something is brighter. "M'lady...your armor...how?" he asks simply.
For his part, Aldean simply looks up as Godwyn approaches, the grin returning in full force and taking on a note of amusement. "Where you goin', lass?" he asks simply.
Godwyn shrugs and makes for the nearest comfortable seat. She unbuckles her harness before sitting. "They have me walking the city again. Insist that I have my armor on while doing so. Never know what could come up and attack." She leans back with a sigh.
Dea breaks out of her singing as she's set down near the Sentinel. "So we meet again, Aldean!"
Kyson nods to Godwyn and seems to approve of the new, shiney-metalic look of her armor. "If they have you walking the streets - are they expecting trouble?" he glances around - up and down the district and pulls the pumpkin-sized bag closer to him reflexively. Being from a small village and then thrust into the heart of a thriving city does make a young man paranoid from time to time. "But... at least they have the Paladins to patrol so it's nothing you can't handle."
At Godwyn's comment, Aldean throws back his head and lets out a bark of baritone laughter. "Ain't a bad idea, lass. Anything shady's like to either run fer cover when they hear ye comin', or get blinded be they ain't quick enough." The wide grin on mobile features indicates light teasing. "Fair winds to ye," he adds to the sword before turning back to Kyson. "Fergive us, been workin' wit' the Sentinel here fer a bit. I ain't no wizard ... me trainin' be from the bardic college, so mayhaps me spells be a mite different from what ye know."
Godwyn glances toward Kyson. "True enough. I'm sure he's told you where his magic stems from." She settles in and closes her eyes. "That sword is Mithral." She points toward one of the pauldrons on her armor. "So is this. Lighter than steel, and at the same time stronger. Helps me move around a bit more efficiently. Soon as I heard about it. I had to have a set made of the stuff."
Kyson hrms and does some mental calculations as to how much a set of mithral-armor would cost and then looks blankly at the paladin. "By the stars - that's a lot of silver... how ever did...oh, did your Temple pay for it?" Turning his attention back to Aldean he raises an eyebrow in question when the Bardic College is mentioned. "Yes - I've heard of that but how their magic works still confuses me."
Godwyn shakes her head. "I did. Every last sliver of platinum I had went into commissioning it." She grins. "Worth every copper. I plan on getting a breastplate made of the stuff as well. Sometimes all this is still too heavy set, and I need something that'll help me move around a lot easier."
Dea giggles. "Yes, but enough about dire things. How have you been, Kyson?"
Kyson shrugs a bit and takes a moment to stretch out his arms in a very uncontrolled, whole-body quake of a stretch. "Tired..." he exclaims in a half-yawn voice. "Couldn't sleep at all last night and woke up more tired than when I went to bed..." the young man's tone is half-groggy as though he's been operating on way too little sleep for the past several days let alone last night. "But... I have all of my letters sent out so I'm hoping to hear back from the House of Merendil soon."
Dea gasps. "Godwyn... what did you do?"
The Sentinel's eyes open for a moment and she blinks. "I... didn't do anything. To be honest, it's that sword of his that's doing this." She glances toward her great sword. "Before you say anything, there's something about that weapon that's not right, but the blade itself is not evil. Something is stifling its true nature."
Dea pauses for a moment. "Have you been able to determine what?"
Aldean, who'd lapsed into silence a moment to finish sorting out his rope, finally does so and looks up, hanking the rope with quick movements and then dropping the hank on the ground at his feet. "Aye? What be this now?" Now he looks over at Kyson with some interest.
Kyson ughs, feeling the weight of two sets of eyes and one intelligent weapon focusing in on him now. Not one for the spotlight, the young mage pushes himself off of the seat and shoulders his bag. Though not leaving, he's definitely repositioned himself so that he's at the point of a three-person triangle rather than the middle between two. "It's a long story - but there's just something wonky with an artifact that my mother gave me." He reaches back and pats the leather of his shoulder bag as if indicating where the object is currently resting. "And...to be honest, I can't wait to be able to deliver it to...my...relations, I guess?"
"Had yer master look?" Aldean lifts a hand to scratch at the scruff on his chin as he considers the problem, sitting up straight instead. "If she," he jerks his chin at Godwyn, "says it ain't evil, then it ain't ... but might have a curse on it."
"Personally, I wouldn't give it to anyone else until we've figured everyone else out." Godwyn's face darkens, her features twisting into a mask of determination. "If we just let a reforged blade that immediately takes control of your actions to serve its own into the hands of the Order, or even House Merendil..."
"Agreed." The weapon gives off a whine, downpitched. Disheartened, afraid. "We need to make sure the intentions of this blade are once again noble."
Kyson is visibly uncomfortable talking about the weapon and sort of shuffles his feet a bit at the discussion. Glancing up to the sky and off towards the peak of some nearby shop, he spies an owl and seems to suddenly understand some imperative. "I have to go..." he mutters, "...my Master is looking for me." With a faint bow towards the two of them he turns to leave but adds, "I'll find you later M'lady... Nice meeting you Aldean..." and is off.