Master Neloth of Great House Telvanni (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
telvanni) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2014-04-10 04:16 pm
telvanni) wrote in savetheearth2014-04-10 04:16 pm
[closed]
Who: Nathaniel Mithryn and Walter Price
What: Books! Lighter monsters! Tentacles!
When: NOW.
Where: Mithryn's Books
Warnings: Wizards.
[ Nathaniel has been a busy man as of late. It's hardly exaggerating at all to say that all his spare time has recently been spent focusing on improving his enchantment skills - in the wake of Wise Snake's rampage, Mithryn's Books has been closed up entirely.
Still. Compelling as practicing his art is, he knows that devoting all his time to it isn't healthy. Mildred would never have approved. As such, whenThe Young Lad With The Hair Walter contacts him with enquiries about books on proper horse care, he takes that as a sign that the shop should reopen at last.
So he does just that. The books he's sought out for Walter are safely placed behind the shop counter, much like himself, so all he has to do is await the boy's arrival.
Good lord, he's bored already. ]
What: Books! Lighter monsters! Tentacles!
When: NOW.
Where: Mithryn's Books
Warnings: Wizards.
[ Nathaniel has been a busy man as of late. It's hardly exaggerating at all to say that all his spare time has recently been spent focusing on improving his enchantment skills - in the wake of Wise Snake's rampage, Mithryn's Books has been closed up entirely.
Still. Compelling as practicing his art is, he knows that devoting all his time to it isn't healthy. Mildred would never have approved. As such, when
So he does just that. The books he's sought out for Walter are safely placed behind the shop counter, much like himself, so all he has to do is await the boy's arrival.
Good lord, he's bored already. ]
no subject
The Young Lad With The (Slightly... Darker Than Usual??) Hair arrives within the agreed upon timeframe scans the shop for its owner. Once he spots Nathaniel, he shoots him an earnest smile. ]
Hey, Mr. Mithryn! I'm here for the... well, you know.
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Mmyes. I wasn't entirely certain about your specific needs, so some of these are a mite esoteric...
[ He starts lifting a selection of books from beneath he counter. There are a couple of generic ones, a volume about how to properly groom a horse for showing and a rather old, worn book that seems to be about raising horses for meat.
Yeah.
As he lifts the books onto the countertop, he catches a small scurrying movement out of the corner of his eye. A glance towards it doesn't reveal anything, though. A spider, maybe? Certainly nothing worth thinking about. ]
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I... think I'll take these ones. I have a horse I need to take care of. Not for show, and I definitely don't plan on letting any... one...
[ Walter hears something gently bump into one of the bookshelves. It's barely audible, but coupled with Nathaniel's glance, it's enough to make him look too. ]
...do you, um. Have mice, sir?
[ Then there's a click. Mice... don't really make that kind of noise, do they. ]
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[ That would be the cranky old wizard equivalent of a "wowowowowowow." ]
The very idea! I assure y-- BY HER MAJESTY'S UNMENTIONABLES!
[ There's a whoosh as the bottom of the bookshelf bursts into flame, far too suddenly for it to be caused by anything natural. Nathaniel glances down at the magic staves stored behind the counter - no, nothing to do with them - and in doing so spots the lighter scurrying across the shop floor. ]
Boy! Don't just stand there!
[ Says the man who's... Just standing there. ]
Catch that ruddy whatever it is!
[ And he reaches under the counter for an ice staff. That should do nicely for dealing with the fire. ]
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[ Walter's first instinct is to take off his sweater vest and suffocate the fire, but another one is set as soon as he starts. And then another.
Yeah, getting rid of the source is probably the best bet. He dives after the lighter as it attempts to scamper away and manages to catch it. HUZZAH!
But fate is cruel, especially if your name is Walter Price. He looks triumphantly at Mr. Mithryn as the lighter snaps in his hand, but that look fades as soon as the memory takes hold and he sees the familiar black blob that's appeared near the entrance. Must this always happen at the worst possible moment??
For what it's worth, he does try to make it to Nathaniel to hand him the fire starting pest, but the dark tendrils intercept him before he makes it. He tries to say something too, but it's just a vaguely apologetic mumble as he collapses.
And, of course -- drops the lighter. ]
no subject
Or, rather, it's nothing like Christmas. But he's really very thrilled about the prospect of poking at these things and oh right yes he really should deal with the fire and the unconscious teenager first, shouldn't he. What a bother. Righty-o.
A short, intense blast from the ice staff freezes the lighter in place, ensuring it can't do any more damage, and the flames are quickly dealt with by a gentler wave of frost. In other circumstances, Nathaniel would be furious about the scorch marks on his bookshelves. As it is, he's practically skipping as he quickly hangs up the closed sign on his shop door. So much to do...
When Walter regains consciousness, he'll find himself arranged on a horrifyingly chintzy flowery sofa. Nathaniel is close by, but not paying him any attention - he has the lighter monster trapped inside a goldfish bowl, and for now peering in at that seems to have captured his interest. ]
no subject
Really, Nathaniel? Really?
Despite the hideousness he stays still, trying to remember what happened before he passed out. Tentacles are a given, but fire --
Fire!
Walter jerks upright and promptly falls right off the couch. He recovers quickly, using the furniture as a crutch as he hauls himself back up. ]
Is -- is everything okay??
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Yes, yes, everything is tickety bloody boo. One moment.
[ He balances a plate on top of the goldfish bowl - just in case the lighter can jump - and then picks up an incredibly old, black book with the utmost reverence and care. Very delicately, he brings it to the coffee table by the sofa and sets it down there in front of Walter. ]
Your tentacles are much like I remember. So if you could just...
[ A nod at the book. ]
Open that for me. A relic of Hermaeus Mora. Carefully, mind, half the pages are on the verge of disintegration as it is...
no subject
Hermaeus... [ BUTCHERING THE PRONUNCIATION ] Mora?
[ Walter kind of remembers the name from an earlier conversation, and luckily, he's a good sport. So he focuses on the book, wheezing a little as he reaches for it. It's difficult to keep his hands steady, but he'd pretty sure he doesn't want to rip any of these pages, so he concentrates and avoids doing any damage.
AND... ]
...is... something s... supposed to happen?
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[ He returns the book to its previous, safer spot and returns with a tea tray. Super fancy flowery china teaset? YEP. He pours tea into two cups, motioning slightly irritably for Walter to take one.
He really wanted his book to tentaclesplode, okay. Bah. ]
Drink that. Then you can tell me all about these tentacles of yours.
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[ Even Walter is sounding a little curt by this point, although he quickly reels it in. None of this is Nathaniel's fault. And respect elders always blah blah blah.
He takes a cup of tea and and stares into it, avoiding actual eye contact. ]
I don't have a whole lot to tell you, honestly.
[ A hitched breath. ]
It always happens after I remember one of the... those giants I talked about before. It has something to do with them.
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[ He picks up his own cup of tea with a mildly disapproving look. ]
And drink up, like I told you. Tea has restorative properties.
[ Siiiip. ]
And I brew a far better pot than the swill that seems to pass for tea around these parts. I have to import the bloody stuff, honestly, you'd think a decent cup of sodding tea wouldn't be so ruddy hard to come by...
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And I remember this black stuff wrapping around their bodies when it was over, so...
[ Tea. Should probably stop being rude and drink it. He takes a polite little sip, since his stomach is kind of flip-flopping, and nods in thanks. ]
It's like they're becoming a part of me. Making me stronger, yeah, but also...
[ Another sip. ] The markings, how awful I feel every time it happens... and I. Think my hair is getting darker??
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[ There's a sharp intake of breath from Nathaniel as Walter's words trigger a memory - himself, wielding power far beyond his current skills, fighting a dragon of all things - and as the beast dies, energy gathers from its corpse and heads straight for his companion -- ]
You're absorbing their souls.
[ He takes a sip of tea, noting with satisfaction that his hands are perfectly steady despite the echo. ]
Presumably, anyway. Are you quite certain the name Dragonborn means nothing to you? The similarities between you are remarkable. And fascinating.
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[ He doesn't have a chance to clarify his thoughts on the matter or respond to Nathaniel's question as an echo of his own is triggered.
And... he doesn't take it as well as Nathaniel did. Not even close. The teacup in his hands shakes before he loses his grip on it completely. ]
It's -- I'm -- being possessed. By the dead.
[ It's a logical conclusion to draw after all this time, really, but he's avoiding really thinking about it and it still feels like a massive punch to the gut. As soon as Walter feels his eyes tearing up he rubs at them with his sleeve and looks down, concentrating on the mess he's made. He really needs a distraction. ANY distraction. ]
S-sorry, I can clean this up, s... sorry...
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[ Sorry, Walter, but this is the most interesting thing Nathaniel has heard in ages. He puts his teacup down, trots towards the little kitchen area to pick up a dishcloth and deposits it carelessly over the spillage before peering at Walter in the same way one might goggle at a particularly exotic animal in the zoo. ]
The dead giants, I presume? Do you feel any different mentally? Strange urges? Voices in your head? Hallucinations or memories that aren't your own?
[ ... ]
Or those that belong to your other, obviously.
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[ Walter goes for the dishcloth and applies pressure to the teaspill. After a few seconds of absorption, he starts rubbing it back and forth. That isn't really helping much. It's probably just spreading the stain around. ]
I'm not going crazy, if that's what you mean.
[ There's a pause as an unspoken but clearly intended yet hangs in the air. Walter goes back to scrubbing. He'll wear a hole in the carpeting at this rate. ]
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[ He continues to completely ignore what's happening to the carpet. Walter is far more interesting right now. Nathaniel snatches at the air with his right hand, a purplish glow gathering in his palm as he contemplates the situation. ]
Might I suggest a quick experiment? I wish to cast a spell on you. Just a little one. It will wear off after, oh, thirty seconds or so.
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On me? U-uh...
[ A pause as he considers it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little bit nervous, but.. it's Mr. Mithryn. The old guy wouldn't do anything do endanger him! He takes a deep breath and gets up. ]
As... long as you can guarantee that it's not harmful. And tell me what I should expect.
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[ NATHANIEL NO. Though to demonstrate the lack of harmfulness, he turns his glowing palm on himself - he's briefly coated in translucent purple light before it fades, almost like water being soaked up by a tissue. ]
There. It's a spell called soul trap - it doesn't do anything beyond prepare the soul for capture, should the vessel be killed while the spell is active. Perfectly harmless and temporary. It tingles a mite, I suppose. Sort of tightens around the essence of you a little - you'll see. Are you ready?
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[ That honestly sounds completely terrifying, but. Master Wizard. And Walter is a trusting little fool at times.
He doesn't look particularly enthusiastic, though the demonstration has made him feel... mostly okay about this. Kind of. He does wonder what the effect will be if someone houses multiple (dead??) souls, but. That's the point of the experiment, isn't it. ]
Yeah, okay. I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Just -- just do it.
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[ That said completely drily, naturally. He gathers the purple light in his hand once more and sweeps his palm towards Walter, stopping just short of touching his forehead. ONE SOUL TRAP SPELL IN YO FACE, KIDDO.
And gosh, doesn't Mr. M look excited about it??? ]
no subject
But of course, things just ramp up from there. The phantom pressure builds until it feels like it feels like it's starting to squeeze. Pretty much the last thing he wants stacked on top of chest pain.
Passing out once a month already feels pretty silly, but passing out twice in one day? EXTREMELY TACKY. So he does his best to suck in air, wheezing all the while. In a bit of a panic he holds up his hand, shakily gesturing for Nathaniel to stop this if at all possible, but the effects vanish as abruptly as they came on.
After a bit of bewildered blinking -- ]
I don't -- was it supposed to be that intense??
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PROBABLY. And that's wonderful. Except for the bit where the boy seems somewhat distressed, but he'll be fine any second now. Gosh. ]
Absolutely not. Though I think we should take that as a good sign, don't you?
[ NOTES. HE HAS TO TAKE NOTES. Excuse him while he scrabbles around his enchanting station for his tatty lil notepad. ]
I hypothesise that the soul trap spell is reacting oddly because your own soul and those of the giants are all being enveloped by it. With more research and a fair few echoes I may be able to isolate yours from the others - how attached are you to your current body, by the by?
[ HE'S JUST CHECKING OK. JUST IN CASE. GOD. ]
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...very. End of discussion.
[ Breeeeathing out and lowering himself down on the couch. Even though he isn't being soul-squished anymore, he's still feeling pretty exhausted. Post-tentacle blues. ]
Mr. Mithryn, I think I'm done with the... the questions and the experiments for today. Would it be alright if I just... if I laid down here for a little while longer?
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Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Would you care for more cushions? Perhaps a pouffe?
[ If you fall asleep, Walter, he is going to pluck out a few of your hairs. Jsyk. ]