nexus_sages | Build A Better You

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Build A Better You

A lovely fall day (but aren’t they all, in their own way?) finds plaid-shirted Harrowheart on a bench in the Parklands. His legs sprawl out in front of him, his arms loop around the back of the bench, and his hands – detached and floating magically just above his lap – are laced at the fingers, anchored together in the air. Despite the space he perhaps rudely takes up, he’s mindfully left room next to himself for at least one other person should they decide to join him. He’s noticed in the Nexus that when people talk, other people have a tendency to arrive, and so he pays no mind to how many or how few people are around.

“It’s Hallow’s End where I come from,” he says. “It’s a Fall festival. Used to be about the harvest, and I’m from a farmin’ land, so that was always good for me... But now it’s about a little more. During Hallow’s End some folks on my world freed themselves from an evil king who held ‘em under a spell that made ‘em lose control of their minds. Now folks all over my world celebrate Hallow’s End as a time to reflect on who they are, who they want to be, and where they came from. We think about what’s holdin’ us back in the present from achievin’ our dreams. We remember times when we weren’t allowed to be ourselves and say goodbye to grudges from our past so we can move on and be free from negativity. Guess you could say it’s a holiday about tearin’ yourself down and buildin’ yourself back up a little better.”

He shrugs, and with a welcoming smile asks, “So? What’s somethin’ you once needed or still need to free yourself from so you can live the life you want?"

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There's a curious breeze that whips and scatters fallen leaves about before the source of it approaches. And does so hanging upside-down in midair, arms and legs crossed, staff in one hand, suspended by the conjured, concentrated funnel of wind under him. The man(?) is quite a sight even without his magical entrance; there's probably very little on Azeroth that would match a creature of his description.

"While there are things in my life that call for a change so that I come closer to my ideal," he answers with an upside-down, pointy-toothed smirk, "they're hardly matters that fall to my changing of them. It's difficult being perfect, but I like to think I wear it well."

Harrowheart startles at this unexpected entrance! His hands clench and hover at his sides while his arms push him up straight. His wide eyes watch as Ixis arrives on the scene, but of course his first instinct is to look up, towards his feet. It takes him a noticeably long moment to look down and finally come eye to eye with the creature from the swirling wind.

Don't make a face, don't make a face...

By some saving grace he manages not to look too terribly put out by the toothy grin of this goblin-ogre, but he doesn't unclench his fists right away. Nexus might be a place of peace, but mages that proudly spout their own perfection generally aren't to be trusted.

With extreme hesitancy he pats the empty space on the bench with his handless wrist, and with a watery smile says, "Come on and... Tell me?... About it?..."

At the invitation, that smirk graduates to a full grin that shows all of those pointy teeth. One artful flip and Ixis Naugus lands on the given seat, arms and legs still crossed casually. His tail ends up flumped across Harrowheart's lap. He doesn't bother to move it. It's heavy.

"What's to tell? I am the greatest and near last of my craft, have achieved flawless harmony with every element, even invented a fifth one of my own design... What could I possibly be lacking? What room is there for improvement?"

Harrow lifts his lip at Ixis' tail in his lap. He slips his arms under the tail and forklifts it up, then attempts to delicately place it in its owner's lap. Go home, tail. Be with your people.

"Your world's only got four elements?" he asks with a scoff. "What are they? What's the fifth? You might have to overtime it if you think you done all the work you can, man."

Edited 2015-10-28 12:39 (UTC)

The tail goes where it's deposited, the tip giving a small irritated waggle at being handled, and Naugus' expression grumping slightly at it being touched at all. How rude! Because his lack of moving it clearly wasn't.

"What do you mean, what are they? Fire, water, earth and air? What else could there be? Things like death and life aren't elements, boy, so don't start with me. I'm looking at the things that are fundamental of every material and natural thing's make-up, not philosophical concepts. The fifth is this." Naugus casually points the large purple gem at the end of his staff towards a leaf that was fluttering overhead without a care. It suddenly drops onto the bench between them with a clunk, now in the form of dense, opaque, green crystal. Should Harrow pick it up and inspect it, he'll find it to be quite durable. Not even striking it as hard as he can will shatter it.

Naugus does love showing off.

Harrow totally picks up the leaf! He's a leaf-pickin' man and there ain't no shame in that. He turns it over in his hand, feels its texture and tests its strength by attempting to bend it. Finally he brings it to his nose to sniff, but finds it has no special scent. He side-eyes Ixis, suspicious as can be... and gives the leaf a hesitant lick. Yep, that's a rock.

"Glass ain't an element, bud," he says, crossing his arms as his hand stows the emerald leaf away in his breast pocket. It may not be an element, but it's pretty, and now it's his.

"And listen, death totally comes from an element. It comes from the Shadow, opposite the Light. They make up everything." Like, obviously.

For what it's worth, Naugus only frowns slightly in concern or confusion when the leaf gets a lick. Okay. Sure. Why not. Use all senses, pal. No comment on it being pocketed either. It's a cool little trinket.

"Glass! He calls my crystal mere glass! It is far greater than any mineral or glass you'll ever come across, boy. Unique and unbreakable, I can transform any non-living material into it at the slightest whim. Entire buildings, armies of robots, metal, plastic; it hardly matters. It is mine to shape into something I alone control and create! And that is why it is remarkable." So there.

"I am well-versed in aspects of shadow magicks as well. Don't lecture me on its nature. It is not an element. A state of being, perhaps; an aspect. But not an element." Naugus will argue this. He'll argue it until you wish you never brought it up.

The nerve of this boy: he's laughing! He even has the total lack of grace to be smug as he removes the leaf once more from his pocket. "This is just arcane magic! We got a whole forest like this where I live. Big ol' spell went off thousands of years ago and turned the whole place into unbreakable crystals. It's real enchantin', real romantic. Maybe you oughta take your tricks and start a jewelry business, man?"

He stands then, and when he does he makes a show of lacing his fingers together and cracking them.

"Look, I'll prove to you that Shadow's an element and it's in everything that ain't a pure element of some other kind. I know a spell that can pluck up anything that's got Shadow in it, but won't do nothin' on things that don't. It can't grab the air, or water, or fire, or move the earth, and it won't do nothin' on Light elementals – which are a thing."

He scans the area for something to grab and decides that if Ixis is going to prove his point using leaves, he might as well take a page from the old man's grimoire. A slow-falling leaf careens downward until Harrow's hand snatches at the air and a barely-noticeable thread of darkness quickly pulls the leaf into his hand. He opens his palm to show what he's done, as if that's even remotely going to convince Ixis that the Shadow is an element.

He watches the display with grumpy, barely-contained annoyance. "An impressive trick, to a certain degree. Handy for pulling things from tall shelves, surely. But again, you speak to me like I am not one who is intimate with the shadows. Please, observe."

It's just a day for magical ~~dick-waving~~ shows of skill! Naugus takes a handful of his cape and pulls it up over his head. Which might not be that impressive until he somehow looks to be folding in on himself. Like he's bodily entered the folds and darkness of his garment, said garment eventually following him as well. Which is really confusing to just watch happen right in front of you.

It's silent a few moments, the wizard vanished from sight. But then there's his voice again! Downwards, near Harrow's feet. Naugus' ugly head has popped up from the shadow cast by the death knight himself, like he were simply breaking through a pool of water.

"There are the elements and then there are types of magicks, perhaps. Things that divide the organic from the inorganic. But not together in the same category. Not at all."

Harrow croaks at the sight of Naugus in his shadow! His first reaction is to jump away, but he's basically a stupid idiot because his shadow follows him. That's like shadows' whole deal.

"S-so you can turn to shadow! That don't prove anything! If someone could turn into pure fire, would that make fire not an element? You can't convince me that you aren't any different from any caster on my world! Maybe you're a big fish in your little pond, but on Azeroth you'd be a two-bit shaman livin' on a pig farm with the rest of the dirty, shoeless Horde."

In a sudden hurry he removes the emerald leaf from his pocket and tosses it on the ground. His hands go for his axes at his hips. Blue runes to match his eyes blaze when his fingers touch the handles. "Look," he growls, "I'll break your rock, Gramps. No sweat."

He stays standing straight while his hands and their axes float closer to the ground. After one, two, three false rises to be sure he'll hit his target he brings his runeblades down with force and fury. Runes flash, metal shrieks, and when it's over Harrow stares in absolute shock. While his hands vibrate uncontrollably with the reverberations of his deflected blow, the leaf remains unharmed!

Naugus calmly rises and steps free of the shadow. "I don't turn into darkness; it's simply a portal to me. Doors all connected to one another. Shadowslipping is a trick, like your shadowpulling, rather than bending something fundamental. And I can turn into pure fire; perhaps that is the next demonstration?"

The mage calmly watches when weapons (and leaf ((which has been agreed was totally from a weird metal tree because this mun is an idiot and forgot leaves count as organic material)) ) are drawn. And then a smug, wicked smile spreads across his gruesome features when the blows are of no use!

"Care to try again? Maybe if you do it harder this time."

He does! HE DOES CARE TO TRY AGAIN! But this time he will be prepared. Behind the bench he'd left his satchel, inside of which are a pair of buckled wraps which he uses to affix his hands to is wrists. At last! His arms are complete again! And logically the first thing he does is unbutton his shirt and tear it off over his head. How else do rednecks prove they're serious?

Ah, but maybe it was for a reason! His body shifts and grows, and in a transformation too quick to truly appreciate he's shifted his form into some kind of beast, a top-heavy wolf creature with hulking arms that surely will be strong enough to crunch this autumn leaf.

He draws his axes again, lines himself up, lifts the blades above his head, and strikes the ground with all the rage of a bestial dogman. And still, still it doesn't crack! He stumbles back, stunned, ears flat against his mane. His gaze shifts briefly to Ixis. There's no way. Gramps is making a fool out of him!

Well, he's already debased himself twice. Might as well go whole hog. Harrowheart dives to the ground, snatches up the leaf, and bites it. Wow! What an unexpected result: Not only did the leaf not break, it hurt! He spits it out into the dirt and stands straight, his doggy lips pursed very, very tightly around his fangs.

Well, while the feats of strength and brandishing of weapons didn't do anything to faze or impress Naugus, the sudden transformation does. Saying it was unexpected is a hugely massive understatement. The mage's eyes pop wide and his toothy maw drops open.

"You-...You just changed. From-...You were an overlander and now? Mobian? How does that make sense!?" At least Harrowheart has, one way or another, baffled the old coot and openly so. He's even completely forgotten to gloat in the continued resilience of his crystal!

Harrow's paws clench and unclench uncertainly, not from violence but as an extension of the grinding gears of his brain. Slowly his ears rise up, ad Harrowheart begins to nod.

"Yeah," he says quietly, and again, with more confidence, "Yeah! I'm both! And it ain't a trick or an illusion!"

Unsure of how this might play out, he smartly quiets down and waits to see what Ixis thinks of this given a little time.

Edited 2015-10-28 16:21 (UTC)

"I-...Erm. I can see that." Although that doesn't stop Naugus from taking the few steps closer so that he can try and rub his weird crab claw against the ruff of Harrowheart's neck fuzz. Testing to ensure that it's real.

He'll also give the fur a short yank. You know, to REALLY make sure it's real.

"Are you some manner of shapeshifter, then? Those are rare indeed. Quite a talent." Of course Naugus is impressed by the one thing that probably wasn't gained through intentional effort on the death knight's part.

Ixis's terrible claw approaches Harrowheart's neck and he instinctively leans away, but he is touched regardless. It's something he's used to, and he gives in quickly when he sees that Ixis isn't a threa–

"Hey! Man, don't pull it," he grumbles, his voice lower and much more gravelly than in his 'overlander' form. "You can pet me, just... Be nice?"

He smiles for Ixis, all sharp teeth and jutting fangs. His mane is incredibly thick, the kind of fur to be expected on an animal's winter coat. Coarse on top, the lower layers of fur are especially soft. That is if Ixis can feel with that claw of his.

"I'm a shapeshifter, yeah. I like both my forms equal, but... Some folks get real weird about my... Mobian? Form. Back home. Most everyone there's h– Overlander. Where you come from, which is better?"

"Mobian." It's said with zero hesitation or consideration. He at least has had his fill of manhandling fluff, now that he's confirmed it's real and very attached. It's handling his beard instead now, stroking down it in thought.

"I assume you live largely amongst overlanders if they take umbrage with this form. And that it was the one you inhabited beforehand."

"Mobian," Harrowheart repeats, a thoughtful whisper that wasn't meant to escape him.

Louder, then, he says, "I was born overlander, yeah. Everyone in the place I'm from is overlander. I joined the army, went off to war. Came back from that war, went to a different war. Up there, there were, uh. Mobians. Who lived in the woods. They'd try to kill us, we'd try to kill 'em back. I had a run-in with 'em one night, went through some real hell, and managed to come out the other side. I lived, and after that I had the power to turn into a mobian. It was outta my control at first, but nowadays I got full power over it. I prefer it this way. I like bein' a w – a mobian. It feels more real. Folks on my world, they're of the opinion that this is my real form now, and the other's the illusion. Not sure how I feel about that, but... It don't feel wrong?"

He hesitates a moment, then with a little huffy laugh says, "When I say I lived through the trial, I mean I really was alive back then! I died later. Now I'm mobian and undead. Some boys just got all the luck, huh?"

Ixis Naugus listens intently to the story, his ears twisting and twitching in consideration at key points of the explanation. They're pretty expressive when he's concentrating on something other than himself! (And that's rare, honestly.)

"I took you for some manner of lich. A reanimate. A dastardly craft, that." Which isn't to say he doesn't discourage it or hasn't read some 101 material on it. "...The look of a Mobian suits you. I rather approve. Good on you for preferring it." Verity's not around, he can bash on Overlanders in peace. Good ol' racist grandpa.

"I simply wonder at the implications of your transformation, however. What a stir you'd cause back on Mobius proper! Another war would break out over the sheer audacity of it, I imagine. Or you'd be hung for a spy by the Overlanders. Either or." Of course Naugus can't fathom a peaceful outcome, because always expect the worst when it comes to Overlander reactions!

"Hah! There's people on my world who'd like to hang me just for bein' me, and these are folks who've lived with this kinda thing for a decade or two. Maybe there's just somethin' about us overlanders that makes us wanna start wars and hang folk? 'Least on Azeroth we got other races that deserve that more than mobians. Nasty things like orcs and trolls that poison up the world with all kinds of evil and violence. Mostly we take our race wars their way. We saved half a continent a' bear mobians from the orcs! It's a complicated situation on Azeroth."

He shakes his head and holds his palms up. "And lich business, that's way outta my league. I got some ice powers, sure, and I was darn good at necromancy back in the army of the dead, but I ain't a lich. I'm called a death knight. Like a shadow paladin. You know what a paladin is, right?"

Yeah, Harrow. Spill your beans to this fellow dark wizard. What's the worst that could happen?

"Hah! Paladins. Yes. I'm quite familiar. So you're the acid opposite of one? That makes sense, if you can beckon shadows like you'd shown me. And that makes you infinitely more endearing right off the bat." While that could be construed as a red flag, who actually likes paladins? Paladins don't even like other paladins. Naugus is just in-line with the universe here.

"And ice powers! Vale's bones, why haven't you shown those yet? Come now, let's see it." The wizard straightens up and adjusts his hold on his staff, waving the worgen onward to demonstration!

Harrow's ears swivel around and flatten against his mane. He paws bashfully at his fluffy cheeks. "Shoot," he growls shyly. "Now you're goin' and flatterin' me, and after all I said about you earlier? Man, I just wanna say I didn't really mean you're a two-bit shaman. Your crystal thing's real cool. If it don't offend you I'd really love to take that leaf home and give it to my boyfriend. Guy likes makin' jewelry, I bet he'll be real charmed."

Then, having said that, he takes a few steps backwards to give himself a two yard distance from Ixis. He raises one hand into the air and the other he swings in circles, whirling like a windmill. A breeze not unlike the one on which Ixis rode in starts up around him, but more than an autumn's gust this air is brutally cold. What little water was in the air freezes into shards of ice and flakes of snow that swirl around him, whipping up his fur.

The winter winds subside the moment he lowers his hands. His ears flick back and forth, torn between listening closely and expressing some small amount of guilt. "It ain't as fun to watch when there ain't no one around to freeze. The point of it's to get folks trapped up in the winds. Confuses 'em, tears up their skin, freezes their feet to the ground. Sometimes their whole bodies get frozen."

Finally his ears settle flat against his mane. "Probably ain't right to talk about violence like that in a good place like this."

Edited 2015-10-28 21:07 (UTC)

Regarding the leaf, Naugus waves it off. "Of course, of course, by all means. I can always provide more, if need be. Childsplay, turning small objects such as that. Done with barely a thought!"

Once the demonstration begin, Naugus watches with interest. But then shudders when the chill starts to settle in. And then it grows even more oppressive than just a chill; it's downright freezing. Enough that a fresh shudder is more than just a reaction to the cold; the mage turns to ice in a creeping, cracking formation starting from his horn and ending at his tail with a final flick. There. You can't be cold if you ARE cold.

"Impressive all the same," he responds, his voice somehow more hollow, creaking, like ice being stepped on or shifting. "Quite the chill brought on in short order. What else?"

Ixis turning to ice at first gives Harrowheart a start. Did his spell do that?! Luckily, no. Ixis transformed himself all on his own, but that's a feat all its own and he has to pay the man is due respect. Curiously he runs the back of his furred paw over the ice that once was Ixis's cheek. No romo.

"You're pure ice. And shadow before... and your crystals... So you're an alchemist, aren't you? You transmute one thing to another! Even yourself..."

Consider him fully impressed!

"That's a hard act to follow," he admits with a self-conscious laugh. "Let's see..."

While he can't transform his whole being to ice, he does his best to demonstrate his closes approximation: a full-body covering of thick ice that's capable of moving as he does. Unfortunately the spell doesn't last long, and he hurries to try something else. He claps his hands together and when he pulls them apart chains of ice begin to form. The chain grows as long as he can spread his arms, which is considerable given his worgen wingspan. When he's through with the casting he delicately drapes the chain boa over Ixis's shoulders and fights a smile.

"Very fashionable," he says quietly. "Sorry I'm no ice master. Shadow's what I'm really made for, and none of the spells that might wow ya are made for showin' off in friendly ways."

Ugh, he's being touched. He flinches back from the contact, raising his crab claw to rebuff any further attempts of that nature. Even if he doesn't feel as much when he's turned to ice, the notion is displeasing.

"Alchemy? Perhaps. Ixian magic has been compared to it in the past. Perhaps its forging was based in it once upon a time. As it is very much transforming one to the other; they're all connected, all threaded together, one bleeding into the other rather than being absolutes that stand alone. Very few seem to glean that."

The further demonstrations are watched with interest, the ice encasement even getting an approving nod from the mage. When he's gifted with the ice chain, Naugus plucks it up in that claw of his, looking it over.

"Intricate work for something summoned so swiftly. Not bad at all, boy. Not bad at all." Pulling the chain from his neck and observing it, he appears to cast another spell with little more than a thought, the chain pulling in on itself, forming into a solid orb of ice. It then gets a high toss up into the air, where it bursts into flames and vanishes into smoke. Naugus grins, his teeth like pointy icicles.

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