Zeidgram
Neve's cheeks had gotten a hue which the red mage found most suitable, and while that colour was fine to behold...
The table of the kirin had begun to reveal it's many other colours. Galahad and Izayoi had suggested that the group would move towards Osprey, while it wasn't necessarily the worst choice on the list of things, it wasn't the place which he had held in first place himself. The ruins of Lunaris had much more alure. But he knew he would have to chose his battles in order to win the war, thus Osprey would have to end up being the destination.
'Ranbu no Izayoi. I know this name... the limbtaker. She's the one who sent all those men and women to the healers, and even more to the graveyard. Seems the rumors of her death were false after all, but I am not one to believe fully into mere rumors, gossip and hearsay. Fairytales are a completely different matter though. This woman is akin to a beast, yet even a beast has right in their basic instincts. Her statements of the other groups waiting to lunge at oneanother rings true, for such is greed. I know it all too well. Her desire to go to Osprey is a personal matter no doubt, just how many lives have she ruined and what has she to show for it? To ultimately find herself at the doorstep of her old enemy? The irony would be sweet, would it not be so tragic. Even a broken clock shows the right time at some point during the day. Time will however tell if the furious feline will bend or break... a little poking might yield profitable results.' The bluehaired man pondered as he observed those by his table, his attention setting on Galahad momentarily.
'As expected from that man, he is going to follow in the wake of the closest thing resembling a firebreathing dragon. That feline woman. But he does bring up a fair point, which is likely one half of a broader truth. That the blight is manmade, or as I would label it. Warped. Changed. Manipulated. The silence of the light as these people label it is no doubt connected to the blight. Someone has found a connection between the worlds of mortals and gods, a gateway into the very ether itself no doubt. And in their arrogance and greed, tried to become like gods by using an artificial device to attempt to control it. Which has led to the world becoming blighted. A lesson for the mortal realms, an expensive lesson, but a lesson nontheless.' The man's judgemental gaze continued on it's way, looking over Ibraham, which had recently joined them by the table.
'A fortune seeker like many others, but this man is dangerous. Those who speak alot or not at all, those are the kinds one ought to be wary of. This man seems much like the gil-hearted mercenaries, the type who will change his footing depending on where the wind blows. His words are no doubt as reliable as the black mage were in fetching butter, or sending the limbtaker as a diplomat to Valheim itself. Still there may be some uses for the man, for someone who knows where to twist... and turn.' Zeidgram had offered a friendly smile towards Ibraham, a greeting gift and promise of times to come, then the red mage offered a polite nod to Arton, allowing his piercing gaze to attempt to borrow into the man's own eyes.
'This man shows much promise, out of the ones present, he and the blonde woman bears the most promise. They appear to be genuine, if they are not then they've play the game better than I. If such is to be my loss, then there's no more fitting an end. It takes a master, to stop a master.' It was with calm expression on his face that his gaze wandered over to inspect Leifur and Aelphis, the latter which had so ineptly dropped the butter and proclaimed himself a black mage. There was something about the black mage that made him feel instant contempt for him, such a seemingly carefree and panicky figure, so reckless in his proclaimation of being a black mage. It had made the red mage's skin crawl, and would his own master not have been struck down, and had been present he would no doubt have died from embarassment alone.
But all things considered, Zeidgram still knew that whilst the sharp-eared faye did indeed seem completely useless... looks could be deceiving, and if he would take the boy lightly it could prove fatal. The dark powers were potent and to not be taken lightly, even in the hands of this... child? He should know as he wielded that power himself, even if such were not common knowledge. Black mages were feared for a reason, his master had hid his powers for a reason and so had Zeidgram followed in the same steps. People were quick to judge those who wielded those powers, even more so than whose who used white magic. People like his father and the self-rightious fools would never have understood such a pathway, even if the red mage only chose to tread upon it half-ways.
While he had not pondered on it much, he could ultimately only pass his complete respects to someone who walked at the edge, someone who strode into the twilight zone. His father and his mentor, white and black, light and dark, both had gone far enough that it had blinded them. Like nature, magic... the ether was meant to be kept in balance.
That said, even the red mage couldn't stop a chuckle when he heard the black mage dropping the butter. It felt like such a primal thing to do, laugh at someone else's unfortune, but it did pack quite the punch. The whole idea of humor made him think of Galahad, did that man even have an ounce of it in him? He didn't seem the sort. Neither did the sellsword viera, Leifur. A simple man, if one were to trust his introduction. A man who went where he was told to go. If there was something the red mage could not stand it were those kind of people, not because he didn't see them as being useful or capable, but it made him think of the mindless guards that patrolled the various settlements. People who didn't think for themselves and instead let others do it for them. What made the matter worse to him were that often those people which did end up making the choices for them were often even more the fools. Compared to the guards however, this viera sellsword seemed capable, his words were not elegant or refined, but they were more beliable than most.
Then there were the flamehaired young sollan lady which had been for the most unremarkable in her words, but remarkable in the manner that she stood out amidst the table for that very reason. She was asking others for what they thought, a good idea if one wishes to know the thoughts of others. Zeidgram knew he had to keep a close eye on her, much like the overly talkative one named Ibraham.
It had also been with a slight smirk that Zeidgram took being refered to by Arbora.
'Such an inquisitive way to arrange your words, too bad that you are wrong. The girl is in question, a young woman, besides eavesdropping is such a unladylike thing to do. So take that hippety-hoppety and turn it into quippity-stoppity. Speaking of foundation of trust, I shall remember to summon that one for later. I wonder how you'd fare in a true joust of words, surely a different flavor than farming for carrots amidst the tribes.' The man mused in his head, before he stood up to introduce himself.
"The name is Zeidgram, I am a mere caretaker and a mender of the great cathedral of Lunaris. Unlike so many other capable champions here, I find myself insufficient in your esteemed presence. Thank you for allowing someone as boorish as myself to join such a prestigious quest." He had offered a bow to those present, his hair falling over his eyes as he did, obscuring his ambitious gaze, and the glimmer in it. He could feel his very core laughing at his own display. But it didn't matter, it all served a purpose. Whereof they label him a fool or some noble-want-to-be, they would gradually show to him their true selves whilst his true self would remain shrouded, amidst the blinding light and the engulfing dark. For if they would find out his intentions, no doubt they would attempt to stop him. It couldn't be helped, because people could only understand that which they have experienced, wasn't that so? Perhaps a few of them would see through his guise, if so they would be rewarded well.
As inquisite as Arbora and Galahad had been, neither one had been able to see that what he had shown them was a display, an act. At least that was what he could tell. To most present, they would simply see a world of raining gil or a big table with food. What the red mage saw was greed, gluttony, poison and underlying ambitions. The king himself is after the source of the blight. The power to subdue the world. What caused the Edren and Osprey war to begin with? Were it just for abit of land? Some insults or mistakes? Or was it because of something that was found. Something precious, something priceless. Something which could upset the balance of the world. Whatever would lie ahead, there was only one person he knew he could trust fully with this quest. Himself.
Some time later...The kirin group had been given rooms and split up into smaller groups, when the red mage finally saw who he would be spending the night with he was met with disappointment. Out of all the people available, these two were about the two worst options present. The two quiet types, he couldn't learn a thing from them without prying, and if one were to pry then one would reveal oneself to such people.
Zeidgram found himself looking out the window of the room he had been assigned to, the view was different from Lunaris. It felt far too artificial, but knowing fully well where he were and how people had flocked to Leonhart's call, he had to take in the view abit. How many of those that had answered the call had been genuine and who amongst them were agents serving foreign powers? The man shook his head softly as he walked over to inspect his gear which had been delivered to the room, making sure everything was there, and sniffing his waterskin and supplies for traces of poison. He could have sworn he packed a red hat with a feather? Oh bother. He allowed himself to take abit of jerky into his mouth after some consideration and some water, after all he had not eaten anything at the feast below, neither drank anything. He did however prior to his arrival, it was all a precaution.
'It doesn't matter. Edren, Drana Asnaeu, Osprey, Skael and Valheim. Neither shall seize the power behind the blight. The balance of the world lies in the hands of the grey, guised under the blood-red moon. Like the double-edged sword, my Kiltia. The path trodden is narrow, cold and sharp, yet one must thrust forwards if one desires to pierce through the deceptions and illuminate the truth... isn't that right, Danube? The current of the river may be strong, but blood is thicker, and isn't it far more interesting to see one wade against the current than simply allow oneself to be swept away by it?' He allowed himself a few silent moments to himself before hurling glances to Leifur and Noelle, he however chose to remain silent. That's when there were sounds of a commotion outside of the room.
'This better not be the black mage again. No. It sounds louder...' He furrowed his eyebrows while grabbing hold of his sheathed sword.
"Missy and gentlebunny, we have company." He said aloud as the door was opened and some figures came into the room. They were most certainly hostile. Like he had previously made clear to himself, it didn't matter who or what these things were. No matter who had sent them, the quest would remain the same. With that in mind he drew his sword and pointed it towards the uninvited guests. What or who were they? It didn't matter. They would dissappear forever.
The red mage began to quickly cast his spells in quick succession, the first
[Stun Cloud] spell was hurled at the closest enemy, temporary paralyzing him. The following spell that was hurled shortly after targetted the man next to the first target.
[Spirit Surge] A beam of light shot straight into the other enemy's chest. This had been the most potent white magic spell he knew, it was used to end fights in a swift and merciful manner. Much unlike the black magic which his mentor taught him, but in the current company, for the time being these powers would have to be concealed. At least to these two whose nature he had yet to discern.
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