• Closed • [The Gleam] The trials of Investigators Lizard and Bear (TTOILAB) Part one.

[Varthakh]

21st of Ashan 719

It hurt to breathe after a beating like that, let alone walk. The pain was something that Fridgar, the enormous battle-hardened Lothar, found comfortable. It was a broken rib or two, a deep, dull, cold ache that stretched and writhed with each draw of breath from his lungs. The last time he'd broken a rib was to another man like Rhostus, someone with incredible speed and impossible strength, far surpassing him in every way... Last time had been a lot worse. Warren, the last mage to wield such power, had broken his nose, eye socket, a few ribs and left him bloody and broken, bedridden for a whole season. That was the very first time he'd looked death in the eyes, defeated and inches from death in Valyeria's stone hovel, barely clinging to consciousness while he bled beneath his skin and all over the cold floor... Fridgar blinked away the growing dry warmth in his eyes and took a shaky, painful breath of Ashan's morning air. It didn't matter what he'd been through before, he survived until totrial and he was still breathing. That was all that mattered.

The sun had only just started to break the horizon as he reached the Ashvane estate, filling the morning sky with a bright shade of red as well as little flares of warmth that brought almost pleasant shivers to his bloody, torn skin. The protean sighed in pain and relief as he dragged his broken form to the door. The giant, red-bricked building towered over his head, an impressive piece of architecture to any other civilian, surely. He looked upon it with dread; the stone walls felt more like a prison than a home to him. Even though he'd only been here for a few trials, he already hated Quacia.

Standing there in the rising sun, he closed his eyes and thought back to the waving, tall, green grass of Gauthrel. The bright blue sky of home that carried very few clouds and endless trials of warm sun... He'd only had it for a couple of arcs and hadn't long left it, but it all felt so far away from here. For a trill or two, it almost felt like he was standing there again, his bare feet brushed gently by the shorter grass while the sun gently warmed his bare skin, breathing in all the scents of the wild. That was until he drew a breath in the waking world and filled his lungs with the rotten, stale air of Quacia. The protean growled off the pain in his chest, then shook his head before letting himself into the cold, stone prison block.

The wounded, drunk and exhausted Lothar was ultimately loud and disruptive with his enormous weight and stature, no matter how careful he was about his step. It wouldn't be hard to ignore the sounds of his heavy footsteps walking toward the living room, but it would be just as easy to wake and investigate the source.

The Lothar gently eased himself into one of the couches, then sighed. He pressed one hand to his throbbing head and left the other to press against his broken rib while he laid back. He'd stopped bleeding shortly after the fight due to means that he didn't quite understand, so he wasn't all too worried about getting the furniture dirty. He laid his head back and exhaled a very shaky sigh at the stretch of his chest. The deep, dull ache coursed through his form and brought on a feeling of weakness in all his muscles. His room was quite nearby, so he focused his mind's eye on his Stekir totem, then poured his ether into it. The totem built up with a small, quadrupedal frame of bones and wrapped itself in muscle and skin before sprouting thick fur and various organs. Once it was fully constructed, the beast took hold of the bag that he stored his totems in with its jaws before carrying it down the stairs and along the halls toward him. Anyone awake at the time would have seen carrying a medium-sized leather bag through the estate.

[Loque]

Startled from the corner they'd so carefully chosen to curl up in by the strange, soft 'popping' sound followed by shuffling of-- paws? A bright green eye had set on the feline creature that seemed to materialize from nothing, grabbing a bag belonging to their master and trotting out of the room as though it were nothing. Rolling to all fours and, carefully remembering to uncurl their tail from the nearby chair, Loque all but crawl after the beast. Keeping low and doing their best to keep each step muffled, even going so far as to have their tail suspended in the air as not to drag while moving.

Having heard the arrival of the master, it was more a curiosity than alarm that rouse the lizard to investigate. If this.... cat? was a thief trick, it'd soon meet with the heavy hand of the master and be done with. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, they straighten up more onto the ball of each foot, peeking over the couch to see the rather battered Lothar laying there. At once a sense of shock wash over them-- what had the master gotten into?? Moving closer they at last made clear their presence-- not wanting to be the poor beast that would be met by Fridgar's fist.

"Master?" Keeping a softer tone as not to stir any pain that might've been lingering in his head, "What happen? Why cat have bag?" As always, despite speaking perfectly fluent common, Loque always displayed a childlike vocabulary, finding simplifying phrases and such to be not only easier, but a quicker means to get ideas across. Loque had some very minor training in medicinal healing but-- without knowing fully what was damaged there was no way to properly treat any wounds, at least not from such a novice. Genuine concern shown in that one emerald eye as they glance over the master's form, careful to avoid looking at his face out of respect.

[Varthakh]

Just laying there with his head back, soaking in the agony and weakness of his bones would have been maddening to some. It was the sort of pain that was so present that it could not be ignored or forgotten, the pain that burned long enough to make a man scream in his own head, to demand it stopped immediately to no avail. The Lotharro were another breed, however. And Fridgar was leagues above the standard Lothar. His injuries weren't immediately life-threatening, so he didn't care all that much for his current state. The only concern on his mind at that moment was what Alistair might think if Fridgar had come home at first light, drunk and bloody. He'd promised to be better, not more of the same.

Despite having little regard for his injuries, he sighed in relief as he felt his totem draw near. The Stekir, a totem Alistair had given him as a prank. Despite being incredibly mediocre in every way imaginable, he still loved it as though it were kin. He lifted his head in a snap as Loque's voice called from across the room. He'd been caught. He looked to the bright orange lizard in the dark of the common room with glowing eyes, eyes that stood out unnaturally in the shaded canvas of the room. This was the effect of the permanent echo he'd taken from the Llewnos; night vision. No matter the light of his environment, the Lothar would always be able to see in perfect clarity, which proved to be quite the boon and advantage in most situations, but as a byproduct, he stood out in the dark if he had his eyes open.

"Loque..." Fridgar spoke with mild surprise. The Ithecal didn't yet know he was a mage, if he cast Chrysalis now, he might cause a panic. "...I'll explain in a minute. Could you fetch me some water from the pantry? My head is in pieces." He looked to the Stekir again, which simply sat there gazing upon the Protean with the bag caught in its jaws. This order bought him more time to think it through than anything else, but Loque would be back with water to see him fully recovered. It seemed no matter what he did, tonight was the night that he explained to the Ithecal that he was, in fact, a mage. Once she'd left him to his devices, he looked to his bag and closed his eyes. Within the leather, he saw the outline of his Lothar totem. Skillfully, he poured his ether into the object and cast chrysalis. His whole form rippled, from his scalp to his toes. Over the span of thirty trills, his wounds closed and his ribs repaired. His bruises healed and faded to the natural hue of his tan skin.

Whenever Loque returned, they'd find the Lothar free of wounds, still clasping his head though not nearly as hard. All it took was thirty trills for the Protean to heal all wounds, at the cost of a sizable amount of ether, however.

[Loque]

Shrinking back slightly at the unnatural glow of the master's eyes, Loque found themselves near petrified, remembering the nights prior to captivity-- seeing such similar eyes about the swamp lands as beasts lurk and hunt for the unwary. Yet when he spoke, such mirages of the past melt away to the reality of the room. With a simple tilted bow of the head, Loque turn and head for the pantry to retrieve the requested. Returning in barely a bit, container in hand and approaching more cautiously.

A trick of the mind? Surely the master was far worse for ware when Loque had turned away than when they return, was he not? With a lowered gait and lighter step they kneel by the large man, holding out the water for him. Questioning their sight, perhaps being half blind was dulling their perception more than had been believed, it appeared no scratch nor darkened bruise remain on the master-- yet he still lay and grip at his head as though they were not the fevered dream of illusion. This lapse in concentration, confused and bewildered to what had happened in the short span that they had left the man alone cause Loque's tail to instinctively curl about the nearby table for some grounding in reality-- even so far as to have all but completely forgotten the feline's presence.

"Are you hurt, Master?" A show of concern, of duty, and mostly to sort if they had seen wrongly the injuries that dotted the man's form. To say he seemed in pain was not something Loque could quite discern yet, as he always had a stoic appearance to him, even when acting in softer kindness. Fridgar was, by all accounts, as much a wild beast as Loque, an outside element to society, better suited to field and forest than brick and mortar. To show weakness, pain, illness-- was to be vulnerable to attack.

[Varthakh]

For a few trills, it almost seemed as though Loque was scared of him, they sort of just froze and stared until he spoke. If he'd stopped to think about it, it would have made sense. His awakening made him the Apex Predator and he quite often registered as such to other animals. Loque, being so distant from society, might have picked up on it at that moment, and the shine of his eyes probably didn't help.

As soon as Loque returned, the Protean gave a sigh and accepted the tankard they'd poured. Without pause, he knocked back the tankard and downed all of its contents. The taste of water was almost strange against his tongue, malt in wake of the booze that he'd been guzzling the entire night. Once he finished, he placed the tankard on the stone table and sighed. "Thank you, Loque." He leaned back in his chair and sighed again. Had Loque even noticed his missing wounds? She seemed a little confused, but it could have been from the sudden appearance of the Stekir. "Why don't you have a seat? There's something I have to tell you." he offered, then pat the cushioned sofa beside him, an open invitation.

Are you hurt, Master? She asked, voice rich with concern. "I'm just hungover. I snuck out for a drink, couldn't stay away." The Lothar bluffed, then quickly changed the subject. "There's something I have to tell you, Loque. I might even need your help later totrial." The protean explained as he scratched at some dried blood that caked his skin. "I have to preface this by saying that I'm not..." Violent? A criminal? Wanted in multiple cities? "...A bad person..." He warned before taking a deep breath. "...I suppose some people think I am, but that's a story for another trial." Another pause followed his off-track thinking, then he clicked his tongue. "I am a mage, Loque." He said simply, then turned to look at the ithecal.

"I am a mage who has developed his power so far that it has merged with my very soul and become a fundamental part of me. I am one of the revealed." The protean continued, almost boasting or bragging, but it was nothing but the truth. He watched her face, searching for a sign on how she might be taking this information while avoiding her eyes. "If you believe me, or if you don't, I can show some tricks... As long as you trust me and know that it's still me, no matter the form I take." Fridgar smiled a little and shook his head. What he was about to say might sound silly or hard to believe to the Ithecal, but he couldn't think of another way to phrase it.

"I'm telling you this because later today, you and I are off to track down another powerful mage and make him initiate me in that discipline."

[Loque]

A simple thank you was so foreign to the ithecal that they were genuinely taken aback by it. The invitation to sit with him, like an equal, further lodge the blank confusion into their mind as they hesitate-- was it really alright to sit near him like that? Hesitantly the smaller lizard got up from the floor, moving to sit on the far end of the couch-- only to stop short at the loud scrub of the stone table being moved. Embarrassed, Loque turn slightly and uncurl their tail from around the table before finally taking a seat.

His words seemed pointless in a way, at first, of course he wasn't a bad person; if he were, Loque would not feel so comfortable around him-- right? Even if he was intimidating, it was simply a fact of nature. Wait-- a mage? Fridgar was a fighter, big and strong, how was he also a mage? "Mage..? That how cat here?" Loque glance to where the feline had been. Revealed? Even without knowing what that meant, Loque's eyes widen with wonder. What was already a powerful man in their eyes was now that much more. "Form? Master change form?" Tilting their head once again with a new curiosity.

Wait-- track another mage? Initiate?? So many new phrases buzzing about the young ithecal's head now, it was somewhat overwhelming, and yet so very exciting. A new adventure in this urban jungle-- now with magic to boot!

[Varthakh]

The Protean all but flinched as the stone table ground across the floor with a loud, deep thrum. Loque's tail had been the cause, but he didn't berate her for it... Just as long Alistair didn't wake up, that was. For some reason, the little Ithecal was surprised by his generosity... Probably still in the mindset of being someone's slave, or so he passed it off. And while she was his slave, he didn't think he was a cruel master, or even unkind. He'd been good to the orange scaled ithecal, or so he thought. Once she was sat beside him, he began to explain.

All in all, she seemed to take the revelation in her stride. Perhaps she didn't understand the mage lingo? It was possible, even if she lived in the city of mages. He looked to the Stekir, then grinned. Ha! She called it a cat. "She's a Stekir." Fridgar clarified, "a monster from a long way away from here." The protean looked into the beast's eyes and it lowered his bag to the ground. Then, all its colors turned and blew like a cloud of smoke, leaving nothing but a small bone figurine in its place. "I am a breed of becomer, I can be whatever I want providing it has bones, blood, and hair or skin or scales." Fridgar looked to the totem before he stood. Then, with a couple of steps forward, he began to shrink considerably. His loincloth fell to the floor and his skin flipped like window shutters in sequence, turning over into scales and plates. He fell to all fours, still walking while his body, like liquid flesh, reformed and built into something new.

The structure of her face changed drastically and tufts of brown/black fur sprouted all over her body, mostly around the face and spine. She opened her eyes, beholding the yellow slits of the stekir which glowed a little in the dark of the room. "That Stekir isn't truly alive." Fridgar's voice echoed from her form, though her mouth didn't move. With her small, cat-like paws, she patted the piece of bone on the floor before casting a glance to Loque. "This is all the Stekir is; a fragment of her corpse. She can only live through me and lays dormant otherwise." The Protean walked around a short distance, demonstrating her gait and stride. In all forms except spiritual, she was a stekir. She sat on the rug before Loque and dug her claws into the fabric. "Stekir, by nature, are incredibly violent and hateful creatures that charge blindly to their deaths to attack larger and more formidable monsters in the western plains. I inherit her instincts... her mood. It's taking quite a lot of effort to not shred you to ribbons right now." she said in a tone that was so matter-of-fact before looking to the bag again.

At once, she began to grow, retaining her quadrupedal sit and most of her feline features. her scales melted into dark skin, which then sprouted midnight black fur which almost blended in with the darkness that shrouded the room. Her purple eyes glowed in the black canvas of her fur and her long, feline tail laid still at her side. She had become an enormous panther of some sort, far larger than any ordinary panther. "This form is a Llewnos. She is the nocturnal stalker of the Eastern Gauthrien wilds." she explained with Fridgar's voice. The enormous feline rose to her feet and, despite barely fitting in the room, oh so deftly walked around the fine ornaments and furniture that dotted the living space, failing to knock over even a single photo or vase. "She was a mother before I took her life, in good health and very capable. The Llewnos specializes in stealth and hunting, she can bite through the skulls of most living things and kills them in an extremely quick, efficient fashion. She's quite passive right now though, you don't have to worry." She explained a little more about her form.

She carefully approached the Stekir totem which laid neatly on the floor and collected it with her jaws before putting it in her bag. She then removed a small leather purse from the bag, then dipped her whole head in this apparently small bag before drawing a battle ax made entirely of bone and tanned skin. "She can also carry a fully grown Lothar without losing any of her efficiency or speed. If you would please collect my ax, loincloth, and purse, we can be on our way." She instructed with a nod of her head to the two objects, then turned very carefully to let herself into the main entrance. She waited for Loque in the massive room, just below the massive flight of wooden stairs.

[Loque]

Loque's wide eye was set on the feline as it melt away, then turn to the master as his form seemed to melt and meld into the same with such fluid motions as to make the rivers jealous of his grace. Completely and utterly captivated by the strangeness of it all, so far as to be fully blind and ignorant as the pelt fell to the floor prior to the completion of the change in form. While they didn't flinch so much at the mention of the small... feline? wanting to maul them, Loque did, however, quickly dip to the floor, keeping very low and only barely glancing up at the shape-changing Fridgar, making themselves seem even smaller and less potentially imposing. An instinctual reaction to aggressive beasts that didn't instantly tear at whatever was near; to become something easily ignored or-- in some cases, easily mistaken as something to be guarded for being weaker.

She? Her? A hesitant sniff at the air, had the master truly gone beyond the boundaries of not just a physical shell, but biological as well? With a never dulling wonder the ithecal watch the panther move about, tail resting over the back of the couch from their spot on the floor, listening intently to his-- her? explanation. Bone and blood and... scales? An odd thought cross the youth's mind before quickly being waved off. Such ideas were likely considered dangerous, after all. It was all so fascinatingly strange, Loque should have been terrified of such beasts, and yet instead shown a childlike wonder, observing every detail with wide eyes. Just as in their youth exploring the swamps to see all the beasts that lurk within, to observe and simply enjoy viewing but a fragment of their lives.

Seeing the large feline's head reach into what was otherwise a small bag drew Loque to sit more upright, puzzled more and more by all that was being shown before their eye set on the weapon. Without question Loque did as asked, neatly gathering the possessions of the master and following promptly-- though with soft caution- behind. Each step was kept as muffled as possible, and their tail curled up off of the floor as not to wake anyone else-- but also, not to tempt the feline into perceiving them as a potential meal or threat. Such concepts; to defy nature, to become anything else by will and with but little more than the trinkets made from their essence, it all excited the ithecal to no end and filled them with wonder. Though now, perhaps, it was far more clear two things were certain; Loque would never be a threat to Fridgar, and Fridgar was perhaps the luckiest encounter in their life.

[Varthakh]

It could very well have been Loque's strange behavior that subdued the Llewnos. The beast's temper toward the small Ithecal was awfully passive, which was quite a rare thing. More often than not, the Llewnos desired prey, something to stalk and sink its teeth into, but it held no such desires for Loque. How curious. The Ithecal's analyzing sniffs revealed that the Protean's scent had indeed changed; he had become a she. Not all of her totems were male, she took the forms of beasts as they came and didn't usually hunt for any specific form... Barring the Lurker of the plains. There was a time, prior to her revelation, that her form made her a little uncomfortable. Now though, she ascended the limits of flesh and bone. She was her soul, her spark. The sleeve that manifested the cage for her consciousness was of little concern to the Protean, as long as it was strong enough to protect the spark and soul.

After Loque had collected the Protean's possessions, she walked with heavy, yet silent paws across the large room to the front door. By now, daylight was peeking through the grand window at the back of the staircase. Part of him considered that it would be best to tell Alistair that he was heading out and might not be back for a while, but there was no telling when he would wake or how far Rhostus could get in that time, so he left it. Soon, they stood before the front door tot he Ashvane Estate. She looked to Loque a glance, then to the door. There was no way she could open the door without Loque's help. "Would you be so kind?" Fridgar's voice echoed again without so much as a twitch from the enormous panther's jaws.

Once the two were outside in the fresh morning air, the Protean checked Loque to make sure she still had the ax, pelt, and purse, then lowered to her stomach. "Climb on, we'll make it to Lair faster on four legs." She waited a little while for the bright orange reptile to get comfortable and explained while they prepared. "The mage we're looking for is a man named Rhostus, a Lotharro. He's old and grey, perhaps in their seventies or so. Don't let his age fool you, he put me on my ass with relative ease." The Protean growled through the Llewnos' throat, even though the voice that echoed sounded calm. "The magic he uses grants him superhuman speed and strength, I've seen it before and it's beaten me both times." How could she call herself the apex predator, the alpha of all living things if there was someone out there that could beat her? She needed this magic for herself, it was the only way that she could protect both her own life and the lives of whoever joined her flock.

"He's friends with one of the security guards in the fighting pit we went to yesterday. That's our first stop, to get some information out of him." Even though she'd been drunk at the time, she could clearly recall Rhostus talking with Calvin, the armored guard at the fighting pit. Calvin had some explaining to do. "If we find Rhostus, don't you engage him, understand? He's very dangerous, just let me handle it."

[Loque]

Loque inch by the big cat, keeping themselves pressed to the wall more to reach by and open the door. On exiting the home and closing it back up, they were met with a curiosity that challenge the odd duality of their life; the master had lowered down, telling them to climb onto his-- her.... their back. The slave mindset said no, that it was not their place, even if it were an order, the curious ithecal, however, quickly wanted to oblige. Favoring the latter if only to avoid Fridgar's wrath, Loque place themselves onto her back, lowering close to her body and griping softly at her fur so not to fall off-- as wrapping one's tail around someone was usually seen as rude among other things.

Honestly, there was so much about all of this that fascinated Loque that it was almost too much to take in. Here the master was in the form of a mother Llewnos, yet spoke all the same with his own voice-- from seemingly nothing as the beast he'd become did not move maw or throat to make such sound. It made the ithecal wonder if it was possible to learn such things, or if perhaps it was something of one's birth? Something to ask later, perhaps.

An old man had done this? Had taken the master down and left him battered as he had been when Loque came down to see? Another Lotharro-- maybe it was something their kind could do? Admittedly Loque could not recall seeing another mage that changed shape, let alone so fluidly as the master had. Magic sounded terribly exciting, pushing the boundaries of reality and allowing the user to accomplish such feats. Twice the master had been beaten by this other magic? Loque did not find this so much surprising as it was another piece to their mental image of magic. Even the mightiest of hunters could be brought low by the clever antics of another, or the traps of an equal. To say there was truly one beast above all others was to be ignorant to the individuality that exist within all.

"Why would I engage such a man? I give no reason to attack, I am no threat." The words left Loque's maw before they'd even had a chance to restrain them to thought. "Better to approach any with caution, not threat. If show violence, get violence. I know that." A single nod. While it had been an accident that cause their partial blindness, it was no less a lesson learned in caution and respect for even the most peaceful or skittish of creatures, that all things can and possibly will defend themselves and their families with ferocity if threatened.