Furiosa (
eumenis) wrote in
nexus_sages2015-07-19 01:59 pm
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Entry tags:
Enter the (Ex-)Imperator.
There's a woman at the edge of the Parklands, knee-deep in grass. She looks like a soldier, one arm a metal prosthetic, a skull-shaped brand marking the nape of her neck, a machete in a sheath at her hip, and possibly other weapons hidden on her person. She's dirty, stained with dust and oil, and tension sings along the lines of her back and shoulders. Like she's waiting to be attacked.
At the same time, though, there's a distinctly misty look in her eyes as she stares out over the field before her. Flowers. Insects. Streams and lakes. Maybe she's hallucinating. Maybe she's dead.
She has one question, though, because beauty is so often a trap: "Is this water safe?"
At the same time, though, there's a distinctly misty look in her eyes as she stares out over the field before her. Flowers. Insects. Streams and lakes. Maybe she's hallucinating. Maybe she's dead.
She has one question, though, because beauty is so often a trap: "Is this water safe?"
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"Why would it not be?"
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For the moment, she chooses not to question too deeply, just looking back at him in stone-faced calm. "Could be radioactive. Could be acid. Most of the surface water where I come from is sour. Bad."
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To demonstrate, he twirls a hand and a blob of suspended water simply gathers and appears from the atmosphere itself, hovering over his palm. Neat, huh?
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Okay, that's not normal. Granted, neither is a field of green grass and flowers and butterflies, dotted with clear ponds and streams. But she knows meadows and ponds used to exist, whereas people with horns and huge ears who collect water out of the very air never have.
At least, if they have she's damn well never heard about it.
Her expression doesn't change much, except for widening eyes, but her spine straightens, tension singing along the lines of her body as if she's deciding whether a fight-or-flight response is appropriate in this situation.
Then his words register, and she decides, all weirdness aside, it's all right. Bartering isn't unfamiliar. Settling again, she steps closer and tilts her head to peer at the blob in the air. "You...conjure it. And how would I know what you conjure is safe to drink?"
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"Yes. Conjuration? Magic?" He says this like it's something that should be plainly obvious and common knowledge, like breathing or sunlight. "And why would I offer unsafe water? Do I have to drink it myself to reassure you? Hardly dignified."
((You rang?))
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She kind of wants to poke at the floating cluster of water. A lot. "What kind of price would you be asking, out of curiosity?"
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"Coin? Currency? A favour would be easiest. And goodness, honestly, woman. Here." He raises the glob of water to his lips and takes a sip of it, smacking his lips afterwards, satisfied with the taste. Perfectly normal and safe magic water! "Better?"
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"Water is currency, where I'm from. Water, fuel, food. And people, but I don't trade in them. But I might be able to come up with something you value. And a favor...might be negotiable." With some very rigid stipulations.
She nods, conceding he's not trying to poison her. "You've got me curious now, though. What else can you conjure?"
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Grinning and without a word, the globule of water starts to glow, an orange light flickering within. Then it abruptly grows, both in brightness and size, the water evaporating and giving way to a ball of flame that had somehow grown from within it.
Naugus looks at the flame, considering, then blows on it. The fire, for lack of a better work, appears to grow brittle, solid. Like it's going to ash, but the ash is brown, craggy and cracked. And just like that, it's an orb of stone instead, slowly rotating, bits of sand and chips of rock falling from it.
And finally, with a click of a claw, the stone goes clear, then appears to fade, except for a last few fragments of sand swirling and blowing around in wild loops. Like a little contained whirlwind...
That suddenly bursts and scatters where it will, the spell no longer contained as Naugus is done with his demonstration. A puff of wind gusts past Furiosa (along with a few grains of sand.) Naugus dusts off his hands (well, hand and claw) theatrically.
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Water, fire, stone, wind...very nice. The possibilities aren't hard to imagine. Furiosa is fundamentally a fighter, so of course the applications for fire, rock, even wind in the midst of war strike her at once. Presumably this being can do this conjuring on a larger scale or he wouldn't offer trade. That could be immensely powerful, even a game changer.
Which makes him more of a potential threat than a potential ally, but she's used to that kind of thing. Used to using it and averting disaster
mostly.She rewards the display with a slow smile. She won't be applauding, but she lets her expression show that she's impressed. "You create elements out of nothing. Can you also...mn. Reshape them where they already exist? Build sand into rock or glass, maybe?"
Just because her first thought is of the uses of magic in battle doesn't mean she's going to wholly disregard the idea of building up infrastructure that way as well.
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"You seem interested in the display." Not sure if it's just fascination or she sees an application, but he's willing to hear either.
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Clean, she notices. As clean as anyone else here. Fabric as sturdy and in as good condition as she's ever seen. The staff and gem are unusual, nothing she can identify as a weapon, and yet he clearly doesn't need it to prop himself up, so she has to assume there's some defensive use to the thing.
"I'm picturing what a bolt of flame could do to the vehicles of my enemies," she admits quietly. Gastown is always on her mind. "We use incendiary lances, but the reach is minimal. And guns, but we don't have infinite ammunition."
Shrug. "And the shaping of rock. We're surrounded by sand. Walls, banks, even a pit trap in the right place would be an asset. The question is what you value, whether I have it, and whether it's worth it to me to trade."
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"I will construct for your walls of such height and strength, it would take days of siege to scratch them. I will rain fire from the heavens to scorch the earth of your enemies. I will summon great typhoons to drown them and suck the air from their very lungs. All I ask are simple things in return. A contract, perhaps."
For what it's worth, he's warming up fast to Furiosa. She may be an Overlander, but he reminds him of someone. Another battle-ready, war-hardened woman who was quick with a sai and short of many words. Someone he held a great deal of respect for.
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So, this may not work, unless she gets truly desperate to save her people. The response, in fact, strikes her as a clear warning sign. A person this interested in helping her conquer might easily take it in mind to do some conquering himself.
Her face shows none of her misgivings, though. She still needs more information before she comes to a solid conclusion. Actually, she smiles, a small, dark, ambiguous little smile as she latches onto the second half of the sorcerer's proposal. "I believe you can do what you say. But tell me what you mean by a contract. I'll make no agreement today, but I'll consider this."
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He is lying. Contracts with him are like contracts with Satan. Buyer beware INDEED. He gets a lot out of the very act of binding agreement in and of itself. But like he's going to disclose that.
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No. She's been owned before and isn't interested in going through it again.
"But you haven't given me your name yet, and you have mine."
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"Were you to desire my work for your base, simply say the word. A business-like handshake and agreement and off I go. Assuming you have portal access back to your world, of course."
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She's not offering a hand, having decided shaking in greeting might be inadvisable. "I'll need time to consider your offer. Are you dwelling here, or simply visiting?"
You know, just on the off-chance she wants to see him again. She's in no hurry to take him up on any kind of contract, but just knowing his abilities exist presents some interesting possibilities.
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"And should you ever need to find me and I am not readily seen or found, simply whisper my name into an open flame. I'll hear you." He gives Furiosa a cryptic grin.
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"Whisper your name into a fire?" That's creepy, if it truly works, and yet strangely appealing. "Hm. I'll keep it in mind. Thank you, for the interesting discussion."
She gives a slight incline of her head, a bow of farewell rather than the hand-clasp she's too wary to offer.
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Show off.
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Show off, indeed, and despite her reluctance to make a deal, she doesn't want to court conflict with him, either. She'll keep him in mind, either way.