Right, right-- history lesson, I suppose. Long ago, mortals began to test the limits of arcane power. Especially the mages of the great flying cities. Enough energy generated to light a continent from coast to coast, create functioning automated men, raising forests and mountains overnight, destroying rivals with weapons that could level a town with a single thought. As good as gods. Maybe better, if for the fact they understood what mortals actually need.
The thought came thus: if mortals can do all of this and the threshold of more was so close in reach, what did we need the gods for at all? Only to impose limits on them, so they could continue to feel as if they were more powerful, more important, more necessary to the world? As is dramaturgically important, the gods didn't care for this. It was not aided by the fact that a faction of the gods we now conveniently know as the Betrayer Gods were aiding in spreading these whispers, their purpose all along. The wars between gods tore the earth to shreds, flung the flying cities to earth and sealed the most powerful of that untold magical power beyond mortals reach. Then, after burning the world to ash and rubble for centuries, they declared the battle over and sealed their defeated peers with tight shackles, and themselves with looser bonds, away from the world.
As for me, nowadays the wealthy brothel owners who want a pretty decoration or the archmages who want an extra claw to aid in the climb over the heads of their peers will pay decent gold to whichever foolhardy orphan, miscreant or criminal will brave the climb into the rotted guts of these cities to find their treasures. The difference between me and them, is I know when I've found something actually important, instead of a useless bauble.
[ anyway sorry about the monologuing. it is listed first on his skills. as for `what did they say.` he sighs pretty deeply and scratches at his temple, like he's got a bit of a headache. ]
[me opening this like damn i made alli have to itto again.
Viktor's expressions run through a whole gambit. The first real sentence of the history lesson immediately has him turning full attention to Lucien, mouth slightly open, a fascinated mortification on his face. His eyebrows very slowly begin lifting and raise the longer Lucien talks.
He's left at the end with a thousand questions, and a hard grip on the crutch's handle, but the inability to decide where the FCK to start. Give... give him a minute.]
So... you're... an artifact hunter? Wait--you found them. You found what was lost.
[His shoulders slump back down into shrimp formation. He also sighs in relief. He is quiet for a long moment, a pensive look thrown to the sand before his head lifts.]
...Yes. There are powerful, remarkable things that sometimes just... should not be tampered with. To harness them, they will force you to make sacrifices.
[ well, he does recognize a look of desperation and he can take a context clue from the earlier question. he's ... a little fidgety immediately, picking at a tooth with his claw, trying to appear casual - badly. ]
Friends in the right place at the right time. [ he clicks his tongue because he figures that look means he's going to want more details than that. ] The archmage who killed me didn't make it easy. A cleric gets to you at the right time, when you've gone down but a moment before, it's a simple enough matter. But she'd scattered my soul. Thrown the pieces to the outer planes. So the cleric waited while I was put back together, with some assistance, and when she found my body free, she called me there.
[The bad casual play. This is fine because Viktor is so smart, but so stupid, so he is already too busy thinking and pondering over the information given to him.
Is a cleric a doctor?? Also, NOT THE SOUL SCATTERING!! This is hitting too close to home and making his stomach ascend up through his throat.]
You... [Releases a breath.] That could have taken... who knows how long. That would have been grueling.
How did your body not... Wouldn't it have decomposed?
Two or so years. Not that I had any sense of time.
[ he was intentionally talking around that thing some, and practically sneers when it's brought up, but if it's being asked directly ...]
My other understanding is that this body was on ... let's call it a bit of a walkabout. Something - an aberration, a parasite - had a fine time puppeting it, and then met its end on the Glory Road by Jagentoth blade and that was that. Cree found it not long after. A little time in the ground is nothing to a talented enough practitioner.
[ desperate and unwell is an apt description all around, here. but at least the broken little fragment is gone.
he looks a little confused at the gesture, but after a second he seems to get it - hesitant. he's spent the last weeks since the revival not letting anyone touch him, the noise and sensation too loud, screaming across his senses all the damn time. but it's quieter here.
he isn't sure what exactly viktor wants to fondle here, but he'll hold a hand out - pulling the sleeve of the coat out of the way a bit. picked along the skin are thin, raised cuts, along the top of his arm and the palm of his hand. the scars are partially hidden in the bright colors of a snake tattoo winding its way down his arm through a field of flowers and ending with its head, decorated with a bright red eye, on the back of his hand. ]
[Ah, yes, this is good enough. He hobbles closer, reaching out to brush his fingers over Lucien's arm and down in the palm. To feel the flesh. To make sure it's real, it's not damaged--not in the way of decomposition, or being missing. There is a fevor of focus in his eyes.]
If what you say is true, it's... incredible. To be able to come back and it be whole.
Does it have to be the same body...? Were you... healed from your injuries?
[ he watches him do this with a distant look, clearly off in his own thoughts for the moment. it feels exactly as flesh should, no gathering of blood under the skin or slippage and nothing plainly missing. by all appearances, perfectly whole and alive as it should be. at least the parts he can see. the hand flexes when its touched, almost involuntarily.
that said he doesn't exactly look like the picture of vitality right now - his skin is paler than it should be and drawn tight, heavy bags under his eyes from this up close, but nothing sleep and food couldn't fix. he doesn't seem to notice when he's addressed for the first few seconds, and then blinks and shakes his head. `its always been you and me, lu.` ]
Questions for the cleric. She's the one with the ritual. I was healed entirely - but stitching flesh and binding blood is an easier job than catching a soul from the immaterial and returning it to its appointed place. It's an exceedingly rare few who can do that.
It's fine. His own body is in terrible shape, so he does not think to judge the lingering effects of recently being slapped back inside your corpse after your soul was exploded.]
I see.
[Where the fck is the cleric?! He has questions!! He's still looking at Lucien's arm, studiously and clinically. The little things are curious in the back of his mind: the cuts, the tattoo. But he's thinking about the bigger picture right this second.
After a moment, he leans down on the top of the crutch under his arm and raises his right hand up on the other side of Lucien's hand. It's got a glove on! Hesitantly, Viktor removes the glove.
he'll wait while he's examined, watching him back - the longer the studying goes on, the more antsy to move he seems to become. but he'll wait as viktor reveals his hand, keeping his own next to it. ]
Well. [ there's a lilt in his tone. ] That doesn't look good.
[If the hand pains him at all, Viktor doesn't really show it. He curls and uncurls the fingers. There's a iridescent sort of sheen between some of the mottled purple, almost as if it should be glowing.
With an air of shame? embarrassment? he puts the glove on again.]
Just be careful what kind of ancient arcane magic you dig into. It will always make you pay a price.
pulling his hand back too, shoving them both deep into the pockets of his coat.]
I feel as if you owe me a story later. But I'll give you some time on your lovely beach. For now [ he winks at him. ] keep in touch, and we'll see about pulling a favor with a cleric friend ... ?
[ then he's turning and heading out, tail swaying back and forth like an agitated cat. ]
[HELP. Don't dismiss the malady of being purple. (looks at lucien's everything)
It is weird being winked at conspiratorially in jest when he can tell there is a sliver of a tension not jesting at all in how Lucien spoke to him. He probably does owe Lucien a story considering.]
Alright...
[Watching that whipping tail as Lucien leaves. Hm.]
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The thought came thus: if mortals can do all of this and the threshold of more was so close in reach, what did we need the gods for at all? Only to impose limits on them, so they could continue to feel as if they were more powerful, more important, more necessary to the world? As is dramaturgically important, the gods didn't care for this. It was not aided by the fact that a faction of the gods we now conveniently know as the Betrayer Gods were aiding in spreading these whispers, their purpose all along. The wars between gods tore the earth to shreds, flung the flying cities to earth and sealed the most powerful of that untold magical power beyond mortals reach. Then, after burning the world to ash and rubble for centuries, they declared the battle over and sealed their defeated peers with tight shackles, and themselves with looser bonds, away from the world.
As for me, nowadays the wealthy brothel owners who want a pretty decoration or the archmages who want an extra claw to aid in the climb over the heads of their peers will pay decent gold to whichever foolhardy orphan, miscreant or criminal will brave the climb into the rotted guts of these cities to find their treasures. The difference between me and them, is I know when I've found something actually important, instead of a useless bauble.
[ anyway sorry about the monologuing. it is listed first on his skills. as for `what did they say.` he sighs pretty deeply and scratches at his temple, like he's got a bit of a headache. ]
Mostly whining like children ... ?
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Viktor's expressions run through a whole gambit. The first real sentence of the history lesson immediately has him turning full attention to Lucien, mouth slightly open, a fascinated mortification on his face. His eyebrows very slowly begin lifting and raise the longer Lucien talks.
He's left at the end with a thousand questions, and a hard grip on the crutch's handle, but the inability to decide where the FCK to start. Give... give him a minute.]
So... you're... an artifact hunter? Wait--you found them. You found what was lost.
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at the end when viktor is processing all that he does a dramatic little theatrical bow, because he can't help himself. ]
That's right. I found them or they found me, or a mix of the two the distinction matters little.
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But... it's dangerous, isn't it? [WAIT, HE'S GROWING MORE DISTRESSED.] Did you... Don't tell me you sold it to whoever would buy for money?
Something like that--it's dangerous in the wrong hands.
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[ he does sigh out though. ]
Glad to hear you understand the value at least.
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...Yes. There are powerful, remarkable things that sometimes just... should not be tampered with. To harness them, they will force you to make sacrifices.
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Well there's a statement with a story sewn to it.
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Does death scare you? Have you ever thought about what lengths you'd go to not die?
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[ he shifts from one foot to the other, suddenly a little antsy. ]
Now? I'd do quite a bit to avoid it.
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What do you mean exactly by... "I've been dead"?
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[ wow. ]
I was caught in an underhanded trap and murdered by a duplicitous bitch for my relic. Sometime later, I was resurrected. Few weeks ago now.
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Resur...rected? But... how? How did you do it? How did it happen?
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Friends in the right place at the right time. [ he clicks his tongue because he figures that look means he's going to want more details than that. ] The archmage who killed me didn't make it easy. A cleric gets to you at the right time, when you've gone down but a moment before, it's a simple enough matter. But she'd scattered my soul. Thrown the pieces to the outer planes. So the cleric waited while I was put back together, with some assistance, and when she found my body free, she called me there.
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Is a cleric a doctor?? Also, NOT THE SOUL SCATTERING!! This is hitting too close to home and making his stomach ascend up through his throat.]
You... [Releases a breath.] That could have taken... who knows how long. That would have been grueling.
How did your body not... Wouldn't it have decomposed?
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[ he was intentionally talking around that thing some, and practically sneers when it's brought up, but if it's being asked directly ...]
My other understanding is that this body was on ... let's call it a bit of a walkabout. Something - an aberration, a parasite - had a fine time puppeting it, and then met its end on the Glory Road by Jagentoth blade and that was that. Cree found it not long after. A little time in the ground is nothing to a talented enough practitioner.
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He does not say anything for a moment or two, frowning, thinking. Then:]
Do you mind if I...?
[He reaches up and makes a motion with his left hand gently in Lucien's direction, as if asking... to... touch? Just two bros touching on a beach.]
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he looks a little confused at the gesture, but after a second he seems to get it - hesitant. he's spent the last weeks since the revival not letting anyone touch him, the noise and sensation too loud, screaming across his senses all the damn time. but it's quieter here.
he isn't sure what exactly viktor wants to fondle here, but he'll hold a hand out - pulling the sleeve of the coat out of the way a bit. picked along the skin are thin, raised cuts, along the top of his arm and the palm of his hand. the scars are partially hidden in the bright colors of a snake tattoo winding its way down his arm through a field of flowers and ending with its head, decorated with a bright red eye, on the back of his hand. ]
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If what you say is true, it's... incredible. To be able to come back and it be whole.
Does it have to be the same body...? Were you... healed from your injuries?
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that said he doesn't exactly look like the picture of vitality right now - his skin is paler than it should be and drawn tight, heavy bags under his eyes from this up close, but nothing sleep and food couldn't fix. he doesn't seem to notice when he's addressed for the first few seconds, and then blinks and shakes his head. `its always been you and me, lu.` ]
Questions for the cleric. She's the one with the ritual. I was healed entirely - but stitching flesh and binding blood is an easier job than catching a soul from the immaterial and returning it to its appointed place. It's an exceedingly rare few who can do that.
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It's fine. His own body is in terrible shape, so he does not think to judge the lingering effects of recently being slapped back inside your corpse after your soul was exploded.]
I see.
[Where the fck is the cleric?! He has questions!! He's still looking at Lucien's arm, studiously and clinically. The little things are curious in the back of his mind: the cuts, the tattoo. But he's thinking about the bigger picture right this second.
After a moment, he leans down on the top of the crutch under his arm and raises his right hand up on the other side of Lucien's hand. It's got a glove on! Hesitantly, Viktor removes the glove.
He has a purple hand, too! :)]
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he'll wait while he's examined, watching him back - the longer the studying goes on, the more antsy to move he seems to become. but he'll wait as viktor reveals his hand, keeping his own next to it. ]
Well. [ there's a lilt in his tone. ] That doesn't look good.
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With an air of shame? embarrassment? he puts the glove on again.]
Just be careful what kind of ancient arcane magic you dig into. It will always make you pay a price.
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[ to be fair, he is already purple.
pulling his hand back too, shoving them both deep into the pockets of his coat.]
I feel as if you owe me a story later. But I'll give you some time on your lovely beach. For now [ he winks at him. ] keep in touch, and we'll see about pulling a favor with a cleric friend ... ?
[ then he's turning and heading out, tail swaying back and forth like an agitated cat. ]
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It is weird being winked at conspiratorially in jest when he can tell there is a sliver of a tension not jesting at all in how Lucien spoke to him. He probably does owe Lucien a story considering.]
Alright...
[Watching that whipping tail as Lucien leaves. Hm.]