milliways_bar | (no subject)

It isn't because Archie's got nothing better to do than to talk to some tall creepy looking guy. Really, it's his job to monitor all the the happenings in the bar, especially when they involve tall creepy looking guys. Tall creepy guys are automatically not to be trusted. He's not quite sure why though.

Eventually he nods toward Archie, without ever actually turning to acknowledge him. Tall and creepy are very accurate descriptive terms indeed. As would be "in indigo robes".

Archie's eyes narrow slightly, but there's no reason to be impolite.

"Good evening sir, I trust you are enjoying your stay?"

"Not particularly, but I am learning."

Which is true, but not helpful. His voice is even, a form of even nature that is beyond human and verging into the mechanical.

"You are learning to enjoy yourself? Have you had difficulties with that in the past?"

It's a valid question, Horatio had similar difficulties.

"My apprentice would say so."

For Asandir, that passes as humor. More or less,

"Rather I am here to learn, and I am learning. I am not here to enjoy myself."

"Your apprentice?"

He shrugs.

"No reason why both cannot happen at once. One cannot work all the time."

"Dakar."

The name may mean something, Arithon talks about him at times. Generally followed by "The Mad Prophet". Or "That Fat Idiot", depending.

"I am afraid that I do not have that luxury."

"Dakar... Sounds familliar somehow. I wonder why."

He pauses for a moment, thinking.

"Surely you don't mean that you work all the time?"

"What we do keeps the world alive."

He says it simply, like Archie might say "Svava is blond".

"Oh... are you one of those all-powerful types?"

He still isn't certain what he thinks of meeting 'gods' here. It is a strange concept.

"But you do not do such things for this world. Er... do you?"

"Not all powerful."

Closer than most people would like to think about, perhaps, but not all powerful.

"And not this world. I will not, however, allow it to die while I visit."

"Oh... Of course not. Wouldn't do to let that happen."

To say that Archie is feeling entirely out of his depth in this conversation would be an understatement. It is somewhat irritating.

[OOC: if still needed, Prue did want to be part of the plotty thing you have going on. Other wise this can be for just normal chit chat. But as she did see the Note if his name comes up she will mention the note]

There is a woman looking pensive herself as she reads a book. The book apears to be a magical text, if one were to get close enough. She has come down to take a brake from the library and get some fresh air. Food not needed but something about this whole thing seems to scream needing coffee.

She gets to the bar, orders the coffee, and looks around. It doesn't take long for her to notice the pensive looking gentleman sitting by himself so she takes her coffee and book and walks over, "Hello"

"Greetings."

His voice is musical, because his accent is. This, however, is a Sorcerer and not a bard; he can carry a tune but no more than that,

"May I be of assistance?"

Creepy old man with robe, staff, and those distant eyes. He's gotta be a magic user.

[OOC: wonderful. SOrry on my end, have been ill as of late and therefor not on nearly as much.]

"As far as I know I don't need help with anything but I wouldn't mind some conversation." something about locking oneself up in the library for days on end. Nothing about this suggests witch except perhaps the books on magic and the half written spells on her notepad along with notes on demonic possesion and banishment.

Putting the books and papers down she extends her hand, "I'm Prue"

"I am Asandir."

People on Athera do not shake hands. Men clasp arms, under certain situations, but they do not shake hands. Regardless of whatever world the Fellowship originally came from they have spent at least 10,000 years on Athera.

So he politely kisses the back of Prue's hand before giving it back.

Unfortunately for observation modes, Asandir can't read English. It has been a long, long time, if ever, and he's had more on his mind than translation spells.

"I can make the attempt, but I am told that I am not a good conversationalist."

Prue hasn't reallt met many people that aren't from Earth. In fact she hasn't metmany people at all really so the thought never even occurs to her that where he is from doesn't shake hands.

it takes not even a moment for her to recognize the name, "Wait. Aren't you the one that put up that note on the bullentien board?" Prue has had translation spells on the brain as she has been using them to translate foreign text. Casting them on herself rather then the book given that many of the texts are magical themselves.

She takes a seat.

"It would depend on the notice, but yes. I did place one upon the board."

Asandir isn't really an Earthly name? It suits him, though. "Stone heart". He acquires a second cup from a passing rat and offers her a mug of cider from his jar of it.

Being a Fellowship Sorcerer means never having hot drinks get cold if you remember to pay attention to them.

Not being Sethvir means you tend to pay attention to them.

On her earth for a magic user it's really hard to tell.

"You were asking about help with light spells I believe." she accepts the cup of cider. "Thank you."

"I was wondering if I could learn more about what is causing trouble and exactly what kind of spells you need."

"Ah. What is needed is, quite simply, light. As close to sunlight as is possible. The being is known as Desh-theire, the Mistwraith. It has entered here, and cursed several people. The way to bind it, on my worlds, rests in the hands of two: Arithon s'Ffalenn, the Master of Shadows and Lysaer s'Ilessid, the Lord of Light. Due to the Mistwraith's meddling, Lysaer and Arithon are cursed to attempt to kill each other so having Lysaer come here would not be an option."

Asandir doesn't know about the Faith incident,

"Arithon can not weild light, and thus others are needed to make up for what Lysaer would have done."

She nods as she listens, "That sounds straight forward enough. What exactly do you need the light to do or do you need it to just exist?" She thinks hard, "I think I could come up with something that would produce sunlight or a magical equivelent."

Niether does Prue as she is too new and hasn't even met Faith.

There was throat slitting. It was messy.

"It should be able to be directed, in focused blasts, at a target which is nearly invisible. As its name implies, Desh-theire is made of mists and ghosts. The mist provides the boundaries of where it is able to spread. The light carves away the mist, forcing the wraiths into a smaller area that the shadows can then Bind into something."

Specifically the bottle that Asandir has been enchanting over the past several days.

"Hmm. that will take some time to come up with a proper spell but it's possible. Do you know when the spell will be needed?" she sips the cider, pausing for a moment to enjoy the warmth.

"Who else is working on this?" it then occurs to her, "It has already cursed some people? What has it done to them?"

"As soon as possible would be preferred."

Is the nearly blank response. Asandir has issues with emotions; specifically the showing of them. It would be nice to say that the more blank he is the more he feels, but that isn't quite true.

"It has warped them to attack several people. Arithon, and his wife."

As yet none of them have gone after Asandir, and the people mistaken for Lysaer have no idea what is going on. None.