Whisper For Mercy - Printable Version

Timir's first training was to take place with Master Vargas.

He had an appointed time, and place, and he was arriving a little early.

He stretched, and sniffed around, getting an idea of the lay of the land, here. The ridges and cliffs were steep; there were bones everywhere, shattered or cracked gemstones gleaming dully from beneath a coating of dust. The whole place looked... sad, to him. Not dead, exactly, despite the bones; just miserably empty, a lament for lives that had been, a long time ago. Now, forgotten. And they were; he doubted anyone remembered the people who had died here.

And that was enough deep thoughts, for now. Timir turned away, not particularly bothered past that brief contemplation. He was a little nervous about this training. Vargas was huge. Would it be brutal? Would he be really hurt? Some part of him, that little monster nestled in his Oilstone, seethed for such battle. The more common-sense part of his brain really didn't want to break a bunch of bones today.

Or ever, thank you.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas lay in wait.

This was not his normal training method. He was typically very straightforward, very blunt, even cruel in his honesty. But he wanted to make an impression as to how powerful Timir's element could be... if utilized correctly.

To that end he lurked, hidden behind a fall of boulders, sliding out of sight before Timir could notice his glowing eyes. He could've hid himself with magic, but there was, it turned out, no need: Timir was early and clearly did not expect anyone to already be waiting.

The voice that called forth didn't sound like Vargas's own. It was light, delicate, afraid: the call of a small and frightened creature. And it issued forth from a place a few yards ahead of him, and below, in the crevice of a rock. Somewhere he could see into... or hide from, when Timir approached.

"Help me. Is anyone there?? I'm hurt. Please..."

The worst part was--and Timir could not know this--it wasn't words, or a voice, he was just imagining. No, this was mimicry, pulled directly from real memory, and in that-... well. He'd been the monster who'd left them out as bait.

That... was in the past. But regardless of how he felt about it, he would make use of it now, in the present.

Timir's head snapped up at the sound of the voice. He was instantly suspicious--not that it was a trap, exactly. But if someone were hurt, surely he could get hurt, too. That was... about the extent of his thought process here, but in his defense he did try to do some magic.

At the same time, though--after a brief hesitation--he was turning his step in that direction. "Hello?" he called out, assuming it was one of the Chaos Forge, or something. Maybe they'd just fallen..?

He reached for the chaos magic that had served him well so far, but... nothing happened. Maybe that meant he didn't have anything it needed to do. So... it was all safe, right?

Timir slinked around the corner, keeping a bit of distance, wary though he didn't quite know why.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Timir approached, and Vargas's critical eye observed. He was keeping a distance from the rock, but Vargas could cover the distance easily. He stood, in a single fluid movement leaping forward and down, aiming for the space right in front of Timir. He wasn't trying to tackle him, yet, but he wanted his entrance to be dramatic. To make a point.

He did so while looking as intimidating as possible: jaws parted in a glowing leer, body held high to enlarge his silhouette, his step forward as he landed an outright stalk. He let sulfurous breath roil out toward his trainee.

Timir's long single nostril flared, eyes widening at the sudden shift in the shadows from above. His instinct drove him to try and leap back, to scramble away from the sudden massive shape descending on him, and he tripped and ended up scrabbling on the rock like a cartoon idiot, instead.

He froze as Vargas stilled above him, grimacing at the stink-breath pluming down.

A bolder or even older creature might have cried out protest or indignation, but Timir just stared, confused. Why!? he thought, remaining in a tense half-crouch. Had he done something wrong? Or was this how Vargas just made his entrances..?

Timir paused, remembering suddenly that he'd been following a call for help, and looked around. He then looked back to Vargas, confused and wary. "I heard a voice," he informed the Master, baffled.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

He tried to call on the same magic to imitate Timir's voice; it didn't come, and he abandoned the (admittedly dramatic) idea of repeating back the Valkhound's own words to him.

Instead he stepped back, assuming a more businesslike demeanor. "That was mine. And yours," he answered. "I wished to make it clear how useful it can be. That is your power, should you succeed in claiming it: the ability to alter the air around you. To mimic what you've heard, for trickery, to lure, or to intimidate. Or to crush the life from someone-" and here he reached up with a forelimb, grasping invisible space and squashing it in a clawed fist. "-through air alone. Remember that lesson," he demanded, and sat back.

"Now: are you ready to begin properly?" he asked.

Timir didn't really... get it. He was confused, mostly, his baby brain struggling to catch up. It was a lesson he'd grasp in time, but right now he just wasn't sure if he had done something wrong, or something.

So his voice was just slightly higher-pitched, a little panicked, when he answered "-Yes?" WAS he ready? He didn't know what was going on, mostly.

That being said, something the Master had said piqued his interest at once. "How do you... crush someone with air?" he asked. THAT sounded like it would be useful. He thought about it, imagining the pressure of air, the way it could blow wind around. Maybe if he... with magic... and...

Timir toyed with it, reaching out through his stone. He wasn't sure what happened, except that he was suddenly choking, gasping for air that wasn't there. The breath was pulled from his lungs, and he collapsed on the rock, writhing in abrupt horror. And, still, confusion.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas was about to launch into more information. He wanted to teach V-Chaos-Nineteen, and then practice its magic, and then spar on a practical level. He expected that to maybe take a few sessions, but to his utter bemusement, the thing suddenly collapsed and started writhing.

It took him a moment to realize what was going on. He stepped sharply forward, grimacing as he felt the space ahead become utterly bereft of breathable air, and hooked a forelimb into Timir's own. He hauled him back, half-tossing him across the rock, out of that pocket he'd created. Once he heard the Valkhound gasping for fresh breath, he grunted.

"Well. You can access your element, at least," he growled.

Up until now, he'd been mild, relatively obedient. The chaos side of him, nestled deep within the Oilstone, lay latent. But some survival instinct prodded it now, and as he rose up and took a breath, he found fury sparked inside him.

It... was directionless. Pointless, really. The only thing, or person, to be mad at was himself. But like a frustrated toddler he came to his feet, turned, snarled at the spot where he'd been standing, and tried to lash out with the exact same magic again. He didn't even exactly understand what he'd done wrong, so it wasn't exactly a smart idea.

But no one had yet accused Timir of intelligence.

This time, maybe fuelled by his anger, the magic welled up powerfully. A section of atmosphere off to one side of Vargas whoomphed inward, the rock briefly groaning there. The air shimmered, Timir snarling, eyes ablaze and head held low as he glared at the spot as if it had somehow personally insulted him.

- THE LEVIATHAN -

Vargas observed, and had he been able to raise his brows, he would have. As it was, he watched a moment before nodding his approval. "Good. Better. Rest now--release that." He waved a hand at it, and waited a beat before dropping to his massive haunches.

"Think about how air works. Sound. You can get creative, Chaos-Nineteen. Stop sound from travelling, for example, by preventing the vibration of air as it comes from your feet as you walk. It will let you sneak up on prey unheard. Or summon a wind to blast prey off its feet. Do you see?" he asked, massive head tipping lightly to one side.

"Sound is the movement of air. The vibrations in it. You can use your element to become sensitive enough to those vibrations to even hear the shape of the world around you. To... 'see,' though not with your eyes, in total darkness." He spared a glance at Timir's large, pointed ears, and decided they'd work well enough. "V-Corundum-One, if you can find her--she is large, blue-ish--she can navigate that way. She has a bit more mastery than you do, and perhaps you might learn from her.