cancelling your apocalypse subscription.

[taryon]

Who: Taryon Darrington (taryon) & others.
What: Catch-all for intro log and Thesa shenanigans.
When: December.
Where: Thesa, space, Wyver, places.
Warning(s): Will edit if any.


(( just kidding, this post is entirely closed starters for people who rudely didn't top-level. want one? I gotchu fam. hit up my cr meme. also since i'm making an awkwardly lengthy ooc note, might as well link my permissions. heck yeah. ))

Comments

[taryon]

You must be able to think of something!

[ A slight twinge of audible desperation in his voice now, like he's worried Merlin is going to leave him here. His lower lip trembles, the facade of bossiness cracking a little. ]

At least go get help?

[politrick]

[Oh, that's better. If he's pathetic, Merlin feels a little more obligated to stay and help.]

I don't need help. How good are you at landing on your feet?

[This is barely a question, since he raises his hand purely for effect as he wordlessly casts his magic at the tree, aiming to wither most of those vines enough so that they can't hold the weight of a big whiny child in full armor.]

[taryon]

I'm not a cat—

[ Which he abruptly demonstrates by falling out of the tree flat on his face. Taryon is pretty resilient, and he's wearing armor, but no helmet, so when he starts to pick himself up he has a bloody nose and his blue eyes are watering. ]

Ow!

[ He doesn't actually stand, rubbing his nose and sniveling a little. After a moment of feeling sorry for himself he remembers he also has magic and casts a quick healing word on himself. It's not much, but once he speaks in the strange tongue he does feel minutely better, the pounding in his head fading. ]

You could have been a bit gentler.

[politrick]

You could've stayed out of the trees with all that armor.

[Seriously, armor in the jungle? A bit much. He shuffles over to hold his hand out anyway, after that suspiciously magical muttering. The offered hand stays, but he looks critical again. Besides the, uh, blood, he looks like he's doing fine...]

Are you a sorcerer? And you still couldn't get down from there?

[taryon]

I'm an Artificer.

[ Thanks, Dungeons and Dragons, and your stupidly specific magical skill classes. He does clap a hand into Merlin's, though, uses it to heave himself upwards. ]

I didn't know any spells that would work.

[ Like, literally doesn't know them. Fire magic, who is she. We can't all be deus ex machina powerhouses, Merlin.

Anyway, he still sounds a bit sooky but he begins to sort of brush himself off, maybe get out some of the dead leaves and dirt that have gotten stuck in his armor's crevasses. He misses his attentive robot servant. ]

[politrick]

[Sad... Merlin reaches over despite himself to pluck a few of those leaves out. Habit.]

I'd say that makes you a less practiced sorcerer. [merlin,] What's the difference?

[taryon]

Well, a sorcerer has an innate talent. They can draw inspiration from what others have written, but their magic comes from within. A lot of power, a lot of mayhem... but I'm nothing like that , of course!

[ He turns a little so Merlin can help him with some of the leaf-litter on his back, where he can't reach. ]

I have a little magical power, but mostly I act as a conduit, pouring spells into items and objects I've made.

[politrick]

That sounds like a sorcerer to me. A warlock, now, that's more like what you're talking about.

[Ahem hem... anyway. He brushes off a few more leaves, then—] Why am I doing this for you? You haven't even asked my name, calling me boy...

[taryon]

You looked a lot younger from a distance.

[ Taryon says, like that's any sort of defense. Though his sulkiness is more about the name thing — why are names always so important to people? ]

But all right. I'm Taryon Darrington. And you are?

[politrick]

You look like a great, shiny beetle from a distance, but I wasn't going to say anything.

[But OKAY... okay. He's past it! It's done, he's over it. For right now.]

I'm Merlin, anyway. Just Merlin.

[taryon]

[ A name which elicits absolutely no reaction or recognition. ]

You may need to get your eyesight checked, Merlin. Not to be a braggart at all, but I'm far too handsome to be a beetle of any sort.

[ Yes, what an incredibly modest statement, especially when he's still picking leaves from his hair. ]

[politrick]

[Rich boys....]

I've seen better. You missed one, a little higher.

[Gesturing helpfully! He's not sinking as low as hair-grooming, sorry buddy.]

[taryon]

[ Taryon just kind of fingercombs through until he finds it, flicks it away after. And voila, he's — well, he's presentable. It will probably be a lot better once he gets back to his brush and comb. And can take his armor off.

To that end, he starts to continue down the path the way he was going, though expectantly, as though they're going to walk together, turning to Merlin with a friendly smile. ]

So, how did you learn magic? Not a pact with a demon, I hope.