Closed The Paragon Candidate [Merciful]

[Khafra]

December 17th, 124

An armistice had been agreed upon. An invitation, tentatively given in exchange for total submission. Once Khafra could prove his loyalty to the Huo, they would adopt him. After all, he had hid nothing, and he had shared with them the fact that the Rakshasa from lands beyond also desired his talents. He was too valuable an asset to simply cut apart for magic stones, yet too dangerous to allow unchecked among them.

Khafra understood this. He was prepared for this, and he remained respectful. This was his only shot at a home capable of mustering any defense against the beings that sought to control him in ways beyond the bonds of mere "human" loyalties, however morally corrupt the Huo had seemed to him.

That Khafra had ties with the Dwarves, that he had slain many of Vokhai, and that he knew well the Ur'Duun were intensely valuable traits. He was already proven in battle, just not warfare in the Jianese sense. Even were he not a Paragon candidate, he would be valuable.

Upon being detained by the Huo, Khafra had been placed in a collar that attempted to diminish his ability to cast magic. Upon realizing his power, the official interviewing him asked that it be taken off, adding that it would be a "waste" and a "fool's errand" as Khafra could easily break it.

Wearing now a bland, baggy tunic and slacks like any other detainee of Gektou, Khafra's dwarvish robes had been taken from him for study and screening days ago. There was nothing magical about them, but they could not be entirely sure given the breadth of his power, and Khafra understood their caution.

Studying the Jianese tongue as he traveled with Merc and since his arrival, Khafra still yet lacked total fluency, but his Familiar and meditations upon the language itself helped him to study.

Khafra knew well the stones, the rivers, the beating, molten heart of the Ur'Duun. He knew the song of air, its hurricanes, and its gentle breeze. He knew the chill of frozen mountains and halls of ice — but there were no words for the kind.

Oh, he knew his soul inside and out—
But for the Rakshasa which had left its mark upon him.

A man of Jian sung praises of its clans. Khafra had come to beseech the Huo, knowing a land versed in Aether would shield him from the tyrant paws that once strung him along like a puppet.
Rakshasa could not get to him here. Mystics knew well the spirits, and for the first time in his life, he thought he knew kin.

443 words.

 

[Merciful]

​

Ash, Iron, brimstone, and industrialism were all traits of the Huo culture. A Clan founded on invigoration, for the creative and avid-minded. However, wrought with corruption and entangled in an ongoing war on multiple fronts. Huo thrives in an environment not well suited for those unwilling to break rules.

However, with the invitation given in exchange for submission; they'd taken on a new practitioner of Magic. A young man by the name of Khafra; talented and filled to the brim with potential. A squadron of guards had been assigned to track his every move, and action for the duration of his time in Gektou.

The massive research facility housed several powerful Magi like himself. In due time he could either make himself useful or become the victim of an attempted execution. The restraint placed on him would've only temporarily kept him at bay. The dragon-riders were aware of this, and thus allowed him to meander about freely. However, he needed to prove his loyalty and become a tool of destruction in their plot against Moonflower.

From the cacophony of industrial sounds arose a voice amid the research facility echoing about its walls. In a thick Jianese accent, she attempted to speak in a language more universally known; common.

"I hope that you are hungry. You will be well fed for the duration of your stay at the facility. Once you prove that you are worthy of being here, and a part of our proud Huo culture. We will free you." The gorgeous woman approached; confusingly enough she only appeared to be approximately eighteen years of age. A young woman with a short stature, black clad in dark-leather, skin-tight armor.

She came with a large bowl of Jianese-Gruel consisting of fisheyes, squid, chopped mizuna, and whole octopus steeped in a broth made from boiling fishbones. The dragon-rider guard upheld their firearms, in a display of respect toward the young woman.

She brought with her a strange set of eating utensils, a large deep soupspoon, and two small wooden sticks. This would become his first test; how much did he know about Jianese culture prior to his arrival?

 

[Khafra]

Khafra knew markedly little; this was a test he could not win. Even had he spent the scant few days studying matters other than language, there were worlds of culture his traveling companion Mercy could have regailed him with, but had failed to do so.

Even so, Khafra knew they would not assume his loyalty, but he would not dote after them like a fawn looking for a mother's teat, either.​

Presented a stew of unassorted sea foods, the mage tritely sucked in a breath. At first with revulsion, then with curiosity as he took the bowl into his hand. "This is from the sea?" he spoke with the naivety of a child. "Come, Nurael."

"Look upon the bounty of the sea with me,"​

Khafra spoke in Jianese, accent gaudy, words bookish with needlessly foreign depth. He maintained a learned looseness to his posture, as if he were a wild man who could conjure a gale at a moment's need; the pair had been ambushed many times over campfires.

Kneeling to the floor, Khafra's jealousy-inducing magemarks glared up at the woman. His Familiar advanced, its cyan-blue fur baring a luster under the dim golden light of the facility. "This is—this is squid! Is it octopus?" the lynx-eared canid remarked in the Jin'nic language, likely sounding like a warbling babble to the unspoken. "They eat the eyes, like we would find in Vokhai gruel; curious."

"Isn't it? Jianese are so dietarily similar to the goblins," replied Khafra, again in Jin'nic.

"They are—I mean; well," Nurael blinked and looked up at the woman whom Khafra had been ignoring. Each turned to look at her, a sameness in their blue eyes.

"We are giddy to the world above," Khafra explained in Jianese, words bookish. He curled the spoon into the bowl and fed Nurael, who had no fuss lapping back the cooked protein.

"Fish," Nurael said in Jianese. "Tough like fish."

Khafra stood, having a bite of his own with the same spoon. He seemed less impressed, thumbing over the chopsticks all the while. "We will learn the dining etiquette with time," he said in Jianese, bowing his head behind the bowl in thanks. "You have pleased my Familiar; that is enough for me to thank you. However, I am presently fasting in the event I must prove myself."

Reaching out, Khafra handed the bowl back to whomever would receive it. He had little trust for these Jianese even if he saw the potential, knowing at any moment that they might challenge him.

431 Words

 

[Merciful]

​

The young lass meticulously observed the Paragon candidate before her. Whilst he allowed the familiar to be sated, before he so much as took a bite. She observed as he raised the soup spoon and at the very least tasted the gruel. She could sense his mistrust and assumed that perhaps he felt uneasy. However, under his set of unique circumstances she could not blame him. Albeit irrelevant as he would likely never encounter her again, she introduced herself. "I am Luara, Captain of the research and development team." She spoke in fluent Jianese. Impressed by the fact that a foreigner so much as dared attempt to speak Jianese. Khafra was an interesting subject indeed, and although he had quite obviously been unaccustomed to Jianese food he respectfully gave it a taste.

There were several things to be discussed, but she chose not to overwhelm Khafra with too much information. Luara elected to move forward with the research, and documentation of the Candidate. Thankfully he understood albeit very little of Jianese customs; the foreigner properly bowed as a display of respect. The Guards armed with nigh-revolutionary technology in their long-guns marched about in the background. Several whelps attempted to fly and crashed into walls throughout the vicinity. Some of them even burped grist-breath in the process.

Luara spoke again in common, although it was laden with a thick Jianese accent. "From what land, do you come? Do not mind the dragons, they'll be keeping you company while you are here in Gektou. There are other prisoners, but we have specifically designed a temporary home for you here. Come with us." She stood, and approximately twenty-five guards began to escort Khafra, and his strange-looking familiar into a different part of the facility.

A motion detecting automata with two wagon-wheels closely followed Khafra, and his familiar. It obviously had been adorned with a high-level ensorcelled marking etched into the wooden exterior. One of the several thousand ensorcelled automata in just this portion of the facility. Designed to activate its stored spell with a simple voice command; when given by the guards, or Luara herself.

When Khafra arrived in the room; he would find that it certainly did not give off the aesthetic appearance typical of prisons. It was a massive dome-shaped room, with 36' of steel surrounding the interior, whilst the exterior had been surrounded by a myriad of guards, automata, and approximately four elder-dragons, one in each direction. On the interior Khafra would find a large-iron rack that would become his new bed. A desk, with several empty notebooks available for him to use. He would find an artificed, ensorcelled metallic "box" that keeps anything placed inside cool.

"You'll be fed three meals a day, and if you are caught being disrespectful to the Guard, one of those meals will be taken away per offense. You can choose from Gruel, Nigiri, which is your choice of fish on top of rice, wrapped with seaweed, miso, which is a vegetable-based soup, but here in Jian includes mushrooms, onions, and carrots. Enjoy your time, Candidate and perhaps you can research our friend here for us. We don't know what is wrong with him, but he seems to not be liked by the other Whelps in the facility. This is the first time we've ever seen something like this before. " Luara spoke in Jianese accented common.

Prior to her, and the guard exiting the large room which was approximately 40ft by 40ft she spoke again. "I'll be back, but your job is to understand what is going on with this Whelp... Oh and give him a name." She finished her brief-speech whilst one of the Guards handed her the small, unintimidating beast. Luara placed it on the ground, and it began to exude bubbles from its mouth. It even looked like a sea-creature moreso so than just a normal Dragon, and caused unease among its peers. She then turned about, and stepped backward as the large 40' thick metal "doors" were slammed shut, and locked behind her leaving only Khafra, his Familiar, an Automata that observed his movement, and the Whelp in Khafras new home.