[The Crown] An old friend with a new face (Duncan) [Character Development Thread]

[Serion D'Rinishad]

~Continued from here~

Having gotten the note from the man at the training fields, Serion took Graham and began to explore the city some more. It felt odd to him, not knowing who the swordsman was, but in truth there was no way a fully minded Serion could have known it was Duncan in disguise anyway.

Having spent the majority of the day touring the city with his young traveling companion, Serion finds himself outside The Crown Inn and Tavern. The day was drawing to a close, and the dark elf knew that he and Graham would need a place to stay, so this seemed a likely spot to end their day's worth of meandering.

"All right Graham, let's stop here for the night. I believe this is where the man at the training fields wanted to meet with me anyway."

Smiling, Graham nodded and grabbed Serion's hand. "Can we get something to eat?!" the boy asked almost pleadingly. In truth, Serion was too wrapped up in his wanderings of the city to realize how hungry he indeed was as well.

"Yes, of course. Let's see if this gentleman is here first however. Our funds are extremely limited, and a place to stay is more important at the moment." Saying this, Serion enters the Inn, Graham in hand, knowing in his mind that if he had to he could always pilfer food from the market vendors. He had already demonstrated this in Imperia not too long ago.

Upon entering Serion notices the large, crescent shaped desk immediately before him. Assuming this to be the front desk, and correctly so, the vysstichi approaches the human behind it and smiles, charmingly. "Serale ma'am. I was asked by a friend to meet him at his suite. Could you direct me please? His name is Wilder."

[Duncan Sythe]

“Ah, him, recluse he is...but still, Amelia here will show you up.”

A young human girl of around fourteen was called over, looking at the Vysstitchi and his companion with some suspicion but deciding that they couldn't really do anything to hurt her if all she was doing was taking them up to a suite. So without further adue she directed them up the back staircase and down a corridor until they reached a single wooden door, upon which she knocked.

The door was answered by a different figure to the one Serion had met on the training field, this the illusion of Aaron Wildar with greying hair, beard and blue eyes, dressed in brown leather and a white silken shirt. Upon seeing Serion though he nodded to the Vysstitichi and placed a crown in the palm of the girl's hand.

“Thank you, you may leave.”

He said to her simply, holding the door ajar and waiting until Amelia had passed out of earshot.

“Come in, both of you and sit down, there's an awful lot of catching up to do, for you especially I think given our last meeting.”

Standing to one side Duncan let Serion and Graham enter, watching them carefully. Once both were inside he closed the door and changed. With both hands behind his back on the door as it clicked shut his entire form shifted downward, a little shorter, brown hair changing to black, blue eyes darkening a little. The face became more pock marked, less smooth.

The clothes remained the same.

“We meet again, Serion D'rinishad.”

Duncan Sythe remarked, turning to check the door was properly closed and then walking across the well appointed lounging area with its multiple divans and chairs toward where a roaring fire was kept.

“Please, be seated by the fire and I'll get drinks.” He offered, although there was something in his eyes that acknowledged until he got answers, Serion might not wish to sit. Still, not wishing to be the bad host, Duncan provided wine, Arakmatian fruit juice and other such items on the table by the fire before speaking to Serion again, coming over to the Vysstitichi and looking at him plainly.

“I have no idea how much you remember, Serion, but we knew each other and took a trip to the southern extremes of Telath with a family member of yours, among others. We both saw you being eaten alive by some kind of mind-destroying monster and barely escaped with our own lives. I understand you probably have many questions before you even trust me, let alone tell me what happened between then and now, so, please ask.”

Duncan acknowledged. This was probably far more uncomfortable for Serion compared to him and he had no illusions that his display of magic would probably have worried the man even more as to who Duncan Sythe was. Therefore for now Duncan simply let Serion ask what he needed to ask and gather what answers he could from the questions Serion posed.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Resting his hand on Graham's shoulder, Serion nods a thank you to the receptionist and follows the young woman, Amelia. He noticed the woman's distrustful stare, but mentally shrugged it off. It would seem that stares such as those were ones he needed to get used to--I wonder what I used to do about stares like that... he thought silently to himself.

Watching the door open, and the girl dismissed, Serion's eye raises a bit at the man standing before him, speaking of having previously met. If there wasn't enough to be confused about for the vysstichi, this certainly wasn't making things easier. Leading his young companion in with him, Serion's eyes turn to the man. About to ask where they had met, the swordsman found himself unable to voice his question as he watched the illusion fade away from the mystic.

"Magic." Serion says flatly, though Graham's eyes were wide with youthful amazement. Turning to the chairs that Duncan had offered, he motions for Graham to sit, knowing the child would probably be thankful of the plush room and free drink. Of course, Serion had caught the glint in Duncan's eye, and chose to stay standing.

In fact, Duncan had pretty much assessed the situation perfectly. Serion did not trust the man--an irony considering their past dealings--and Duncan could not simply trust someone he had thought to have been...devoured. The idea of such an event sent an almost imperceptible shudder up the dark elf's spine. Looking at the child and back to Duncan, eyes flat, Serion nods at the mans words.

"To be perfectly honest...I know very little...of anything. I woke up in a destroyed village not far from the city, Imperia. This child seemed to be the only survivor, and somehow the two of us managed to make do. It was quite ackward actually...I couldn't even talk...my thoughts seemed to be constantly about hunger...as though I were some sort of beast."

Serion's eyes seem distant as he recalls the events but a season ago.
"We traveled when the food of the village began to diminish...molded and rotten. We buried some of the dead bodies--Graham did at least. I never saw them since I could barely move myself for a time." Watching Graham drink from a cup, Serion looks back at the dark eyes of the mystic. "As we followed the streets we were occasionally attacked by bandits. Somehow I defeated them, as though I'd been doing it for ages, and in Imperia I found out that I was known for wielding swords--a warrior of sorts I guess."

Scratching his head, and running his fingers through his long white hair, Serion continues, "In fact, walking around Imperia seemed to make me feel comfortable, and the feeling of having been there before was slowly growing stronger--like a dream you can't recall exactly." Frowning a bit, Serion pauses. "If I try to force myself to remember something, though, it causes me sever headaches. It's almost like my memories are there, but too many to let flood in at once on my own. As they come back, I'm fine, but forcing them... At that Serion shakes his head, indicating the fact that such an action was something he had decided to refrain from.

"I am troubled at your words though...Duncan." The name came back to Serion from the mental conversation in the square. "You say I was devoured? I find that a bit unsettling. How could I have been eaten and still walk about now? If I was in the southern extremes of the world, why did I wake up near Imperia? I've seen the map before we traveled to Aelyria Prime...it doesn’t make any sense to me."

[Duncan Sythe]

“I am afraid that even the most powerful Mystic on Telath may not be able to tell you what happened between the last time I saw you and now.”

Duncan admittedly candidly before he said anything else, none the less watchful of the man. Serion appeared to have not only survived the cold south but returned rejuvenated. Admittedly he was not fully aware of who he was, but in that Duncan could be of at least a little help, exactly how much depended on the nature of the damage to the man's mind. Not all memories after all might even still exist and those that did might be fragmentory. He had little doubt given his experience that if the memory existed he could resurrect it, it was just more down to how much there was to give Serion back.

He'd experienced some so far though and clearly still possessed some of his more innate talents, thus, to himself at least Duncan had some hope of Serion potentially regaining knowledge.

The questions lay in how much Duncan even wished to be involved with that. Serion was not after all, no...not was not but had not been the nicest of Telaths denizens. Equally though Duncan was unsure whether he had the right to make such a decision and, more over, he didn't know what the impact of Serion regaining any knowledge of his self could be. He could after all be appalled by what he had been or could embrace it with fervor as it gave him a direction.

The most immediate point, aside from all of those concerns regarding Serion's mind however was convincing him of who Duncan Sythe was as Serion was, rightly, suspicious and most likely a little confused. It was time for a story.

He'd poured himself wine whilst Serion had spoken, making an effort to seem at ease with the man despite nagging suspicions and impart at least some sense of familiarity. Although whether what was conveyed was merely that Duncan didn't fear Serion or that he was indeed comfortable with the Vysstitichi, Duncan couldn't tell. Taking a seat on the arm of one of the chairs he crossed his hands across his knees, taking a sip of his wine before speaking.

“There was a trip, an investigation into an archaeological dig in the southern wastes.” He began. “It took months to get there and along the way we discovered given the closeness of the group that we were both present along with an associate of yours, Faust.”

Duncan watched for any recognition of the name and went on.

“We disimbarked. I could tell you the entire story of the strangeness of that place but..” He shrugged. “It's irrelevant to the matter at hand so i'll skip to the part that isn't. The dig site was a mess and there were only three survivors, all three very strange. We spoke to a human that possessed incredibly strong mental powers and were forced to subdue him. Investigations continued and we got lost.”

He stared off to one side as he recalled. He also decided to keep things short.

“Then either we were incredibly unlucky or drawn towards the source of all the chaos. Once there things went badly, me and Faust lost track of you but saw some others that were...changed, they'd been attacked by some kind of creature that had taken control of them.”

Now Duncan looked directly up at Serion.

“One of them took control of you.” He summarized bluntly. “They were incredibly powerful, even one of them had nearly killed the three of us, we had no idea what other powers they had and your mind appeared to be...gone.”

Duncan took a slightly uncomfortable sip of the wine, aware he was pretty much admitting Faust and him had left Serion to his fate...but then he could just hope the man was bright enough without his memories to comprehend that given the situation trying to remove Serion with them was pretty much a non-starter.

“We had to leave or be killed. The last time I saw you, your face has tentacles and you'd been turned into some kind of magical zombie. The last time apart from the other brightening on the training field.”

He concluded.

“You asked how you could be eaten and still be here. Eaten is not perhaps the right word as I trust you can now see. My response when I first saw you was what it was because of the power and danger of the thing that attacked you. Whether your mind contains knowledge of the events between then and now.”

Duncan tilted a hand in a 'who knows' gesture.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Equally why Imperia? I don't know. As to who you are...”

There was a very strange expression on Duncan's face now, dangerous almost. The admission he'd happily made that he was a mage transcended into something different, mysterious. He was contemplating himself whether it was a good thing or not to give Serion his memories back – or try to – but the point was more that he was studying Serion with eyes that were used to situations like this, to strangeness.

Duncan wasn't frightened of any of it and Serion, therefore, was a man that had dealt with mages and powerful men. He knew that would matter to the Vysstitichi.

“The question is not whether you could regain your memories, your clearly already doing that. It's whether you wish to. You are not the person I remember, so I must put to you the question of who you are now and who you wish to be?”

He put the wine aside, crossed his arms.

“I won't lie to you and tell you that you are someone you are not Serion D'rinishad. Even when I knew you before I didn't know the whole of your story, only parts – and I am reasonably sure someone else could tell you your history better than I could, Faust for example. In the end though, it's down to you.”

The implicit suggestion that Duncan had someone to offer in regard to memories if Serion wished it was there and Duncan wasn't being intentionally obtuse – regardless of Serion's next reply he'd extend upon that when he responded, but for now he didn't want Serion's answer about his current state of mind clouded by the possibility of regaining part of his memories or more than part.

No, he wanted to know about the man that had traveled from Imperia to here; the one in front of him, Serion D'rinishad the Vysstitichi Prince was currently not important, Serion who had saved Graham...was.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Serion had eyed the chair next to Graham when Duncan had decided to sit. He was indeed a bit unsure of what to think of this person before him. Just as Serion seemed to have many identities of his own, this one-time companion of his seemed to have multiple identities as well. Faltering for but a moment, Serion moves to the cushioned seat and leans back, breathing in slowly. He had learned over the past few confusing months that calming breaths seemed to clear his mind and let him focus on the task at hand. This particular task, of course, was listening to what Duncan had to say.

Eyes intent on Duncan as the man spoke, Serion tried to picture the events that had taken place. Nothing was coming to the dark elfs mind, but nonetheless he wanted to have Duncan's version of what had transpired. The name Faust did indeed bring a glint of recognition to Serion's eye, having been the main reason he came to Aelyria Prime in the first place. As far as a face, however, Serion's mind only sent shadows of a dark elf, face in shadows, or back to him. Never a feature to stand out in the swordsman's mind.

Listening on, Serion nods his head to the words that Duncan speaks, mentally agreeing that anyone that suddenly grew tentacles on their face and attacked their friends was not the same person. The fact that Duncan had mentioned that one of these creatures had almost wiped out the three adventurers made Serion wonder how powerful had the three been. Surely this was meant to be a measure of immense power. Had Serion truly been what rumors had been telling him since his time in Imperia? What kind of people were Duncan and Faust...and even these creatures that had nearly destroyed them all?

Shaking his head as Duncan finishes, Serion decides that it's his own life he needs to worry about, and not the lives of others--even if they do connect to his in some way. Letting his head come to a stop as he focuses his own thoughts, Serion keeps a steady gaze at the mystic. "I'd like to say your story brought back memories...terrible memories of loss, exillerating memories of action. I would be lying if I said that though." Leaning forward, placiong his forearms on his thighs as he clasps his hands together, Serion turns his eyes from Duncan and stares at the floor. His eyes study the carpetry, how the table and chairs rest, and how shadows play out across the floor.

A moment passes before the vysstichi speaks again, and even Graham had stopped drinking to look at the older friend in his silence. [color="palegreen"]"I had already run into a woman in Imperia, named Sakura--at an Inn. She was the first person to tell me about myself. How I was an arrogant man, quick to anger, and quicker with a blade. Yet, I was also a practitioner of holy magics? This doesn't make any sense to me. I find it hard to believe what people say of me. It seems almost surreal."/COLOR]

Raising his head up, Serion returns his eyes to those of Duncan. "I've learned that a man is made up of what he has done, and what he plans on doing. Whether I was a pious man of great deeds, or a villanous deciever, I need to live with the choices I had made. There was obviously a reason for my path, and if I have made enemies or friends for choosing...well then what good does it do me now."

Chuckling, Serion leans back in his chair again, a bit more comfortable having gotten some things off his chest. "I've had people try and kill me on the streets, and I took them down like they were flies. I look at this child, and I feel compassion, as though he were my son, or closest friend. I need to know who and what I was, and whatever I learn I can deal with after the fact." Falling silent, not knowing what else to say, Serion's thoughts drift around some of things that Duncan had mentioned about the expedition in the south. He had mentioned that Serion was no longer himself...that he had tentacles growing from his face.

Maybe I can ask Graham about that day he found me...maybe it was me...that thing that had destroyed his village...

[Duncan Sythe]

Listening to Serion it was clear the man's experiences since regaining his awareness had shaped him in a profoundly different way to his childhood – Duncan could only presume in Vortex – as a result he was far more compassionate, almost akin to Faust. Although Duncan didn't dare go making any verbal comparisons when he knew so little of Faust and Serion in general. Still it was troubling to think of the difference in the brutal Serion he had been accustomed to and the one sat across from him now. Troubling in so far as what Serion would make of himself when he knew more of who he was.

“You believed in the Gods.” Duncan said finally, looking across at Serion. “Thaumaturgy is not limited to what might be considered the Gods above, in my experience you didn't exactly follow them. But equally you were not an unnecessarily cruel man.”

Tapping a finger on his knee it was clear Duncan was uncertain as to how to proceed. He knew from his own experiences that it was often hard to define who a man was given his experiences and the events in his life. But more importantly to decide which events were important. It wasn't of course Duncan's place to decide for Serion, especially if he had the power to regrant the man some of his memories, but he could at least offer a choice.

“You say that now Serion but whilst you say you need to live with the choices you have made, it is those choices that shaped you into what you were. Your body is still the same, the question lies in the depth of the effect this boy has had on you.”

He turned to Graham and when he did it was clear from his expression that in some way he feared for the boy.

“I cannot tell you even as a Mystic what the effect on your mind would be if you were to regain the memories of what you had done before the expedition. Would you resume that old mind set? Would your new memories be strong enough to change who you were before?”

Duncan held up his hands.

“I cannot tell you either way Serion. I can offer you a possibility of regaining some of those memories, even if i can't take you how successful it would be. But before you decide I would ask you how important it is for you to know who you were, if there is a chance that it might change who you are.”

It was as far from a black and white question as anything possibly could be. Duncan didn't want to delude Serion in any particular way or direct him one way or another. He could only give the man the facts and let him make his choice – especially since Duncan himself had no idea what the effects of any given act would be.

It was all in Serion's hands.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Serion smiles at the mystic. The vysstichi had already made his decision, and at the rate things were going he'd eventually find out who he once was anyway--it just may take a few era. "I appreciate your concern, Duncan, but I have decided that I really do wish to know who I was. It may change who I am, but then again it may not." Shrugging his shoulders, Serion continues, "I think that eventually I will find out eventually anyway."

Rubbing Graham's head, the young boy obviously getting tired from the days exitement of sightseeing, Serion eyes the mystic. "I can understand if you have hesitations about helping me. It seems that I may have once been a rather obnoxious, dangerous man. I cannot argue in either direction, but some of my memories and what people say seem to coincide in that favor."

"If you wish to help me, then whenever you desire to make your attempt. I have decided to stay in Aelyria Prime for at least a few months. There are many familiar feeling areas here, and that seems to help in my memories." Pausing, a flash in his eyes, Serion gives an odd sort of look to the mystic.

"I do have one question, though. As a mage, are you not able to help me back on the path of Thaumaturgy? Even if you do try and release my memories to me, you yourself made mention that the outcome would be uncertain. At least with the healing arts I could have a focus to follow in the interim." Patting the swords at his right side, Serion shakes his head. "I feel my reflexes returning the more I handle these blades, and while I can imagine the discipline I must have honed in order to be so proficient, I think that holier magics may in fact be a safer course. It is easy to kill, I have learned, but I think it takes stronger character to heal."

In fact, the old Serion had thought that same thought at one point. His original idea had been to forsake the easy path that was the evil gods, and persue a path that seemed more challenging to him. A dark elf, wielding holy magics, was indeed an odd sight. Serion wasn't an evil person perse, bu rather an ambitious one. He sought power, and did what was necessary, but in that respect he also did what was good for his House. He had lost his House in Hon'Elgg once, and he had refused to lose it again.

"I think if we can do that much, even I don't gain a sliver of my memory, I can at least follow a path similar, but perhaps better than the one I once took." Leaning back, Serion had tossed the ball back in the mystic's court. He had made his decision, but had Duncan? Serion found it hard to really read the human's face. He wasn't best at reading faces in his past life either, though before Serion didn't really care what people were thinking...arrogant bastard that he was.