milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: The Dark Portal is destroyed and the forces of Azeroth must seek shelter on the world of Draenor.]

The Door does not open.

Instead there's a flash of purple light in the form of concentric, oval rings. An older man in dusty blue and silver robes and holding a staff appears at the center of them and for a moment he looks terribly confused. His eyes start to glow the same shade of purple as he looks around, stopping when he spots the Window. The glow fades as his mouth falls open.

Then he grins. "Ha HA! I knew it! Modera owes me a drink!"

[OOC: Open all weekend!]

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"The haven at the crossroads of all places." Sinric smiles, "Welcome to Milliways. It must be very powerful magic you have? To travel so."

"Ah, well, as I said I wasn't trying to come here. I really didn't put enough energy in my spell to come this far," he says sheepishly. "I suppose I may have miscalculated. It has been a long day, after all, and I was teleporting from a new place."

"Milliways has a way of being people here. Some things when they most need it, other times when they least expect it. The fault many not at all have been yours. It may simply have been time for you to find your way here."

"The place itself does this?" That's a new concept for him, a sentient place. Intriguing!

"Indeed it does. Or seems to. The Bar certainly goes out of her way to look after people." he gestures to the bar. "And I believe the first drink is a gift in welcome. You need only ask and she will provide."

Khadgar looks to the bar. "Ah, a construct! Wonderful. A glass of Dalaran red, thank you." He takes a sip of the wine. Oh, he needed this. It's been a terribly long day.

He moves to join the man by the fire, setting his staff to stand on its own before he sinks into a seat. "I'm Khadgar, of Azeroth if that means anything."

Sinric sets asides his own staff, though it is very different to his - a four note flute carved from ash wood. Simple but quietly powerful.

"I am Sinric, called Sinric the Wanderer. You are most welcome here, Khadgar."

"Well met, Sinric, and I thank you." He notices the fish in the fire and watches them, intrigued. "If I may, Milliways itself is a construct?" He's trying to understand where he's come to.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean by construct. It was built, but by what hands, I do not know. Nor does any here that I know of."

He slips off the couch and kneels on the hearth in a graceful movement, holding a crust of bread as close to the fire as he dares without burning himself. The firefish edge out, darting to nibble at the bread and race back into the flames.

"Constructs are physical things magically given a semblance of life," he explains, watching him feed the fish. Are they elementals? Interesting!

"They tend to be subservient to their creators, however. By what you've said this one has quite a will." It's not unheard of for that to happen if a construct has been around for a very long time.

"Then it is quite possible. Although I have never met anyone why knew who the creator was or is."

He tosses the crust in for them to finish off and comes back to his seat, dusting off his hands and sipping his tea. "The Bar has a will, certainly. I have seen her fret over people. Or tease them. Or refuse them their desires in exchange for their needs." He smiles, warm and playful. "Especially when she feels someone isn't eating enough."

"Oh? That is good to know." He'll treat her more like a person, then, if she's old enough to act like one. It occurs to him the place has probably been here for a very long time.

"How long have you been coming to Milliways?"

"Since my fifteenth year." Sinric smiles, casting his mind back. "I found the door during one of my Master's parties. I was quite giddy from the smoke of the hashish one of my Master's guest brought as a gift. It took me some time to believe the strangeness of my surroundings."

Khadgar laughs a little. "I can imagine. My own master used to throw extravagant parties before he got tired of strangers trying to curry favor from him." Khadgar never got to attend one himself, he apprenticed under Medivh after, but the tower was very strange even then. "Were I to still live there I could easily see this place being a vision instead of real."

Khadgar's lack of reaction to the use of Master, and using it in kind, relaxes Sinric somewhat. He's grown accustomed to people reacting badly to the fact he was a slave.

"Once I became use to it, it became a haven for me. And the knowledge gained here boon to help me through the worst of times. I have been very fortunate. Even of there have been times years have passed without me finding the door, I have always found it when I needed it most."

"And now I am a wanderer, it is the only home I claim."

Edited 2018-01-15 14:18 (UTC)

If Khadgar knew he meant slavery he would similarly react badly. The civilized races of Azeroth don't use slaves, not even the Horde. He thinks Sinric is referring to his teacher.

"By choice or by necessity?"

"Both." Sinric shrugs. "My master freed me with his death but his son would not have honoured that promise, so I was forced to run."

"But I am compelled too by fate. It is my path to be the hand that guides greater men. To set two who I love dearly on the path to find each other. A debt and a gift both."

Freed? Oh. Well now he feels like an ass.

"I am glad you found something greater," Khadgar replies. "My apologies, I didn't realize you meant you were a slave when you said 'master'." He looks slightly chagrined.

He cocks his head. "What did you think I meant?" He asks curiously and without judgement. "You were not yourself a slave?"

"I-no. No, Master Medivh was my teacher. I was apprenticed to him to learn magic." And his secrets. And to get Khadgar out of Dalaran's hair.

Mages love solving multiple problems with one solution.

Edited 2018-01-16 13:44 (UTC)

"Ah, I see. So magic is a thing taught openly in your world? Is it magic one may learn or a gift one must be born to to gain?"

"It is openly taught. There's a school in Stormwind, but many seek the mage city-state of Dalaran for the best teachers. Almost all of the races can learn how to wield the arcane, though the cultures of some discourage it. They usually have their own magic traditions."

He thinks for a moment. "I believe only the tauren haven't taken up the practice."

"Truly? How wonderful." Sinric smiles. "When I am from, such gifts are rare and rarer still those who learn to use them. Those with such gifts are revered in some cultures and reviled in others."

He laughs a little, wry. "We're hardly revered. The night elves are still quite hostile to mages but even they've allowed practitioners back into their society."

"Night elves? I have met an elven lord here but I'm not sure if he is of the night or day. Or if his people make such distinctions."