westfallcorndog | Chat of Mythology

If he wasn't so young, Viatorus might look like an Oxford professor with his tweed suit and leather satchels weighing down his shoulders. He's happy to be outside, though. It makes a nice change, and the weather seems to be revelling in the chance to bring in some warmth again.

Harrowheart's picked a nice spot, too. Though Viatorus gets distracted once or twice ~~or thrice~~ along the way to their designated meeting spot. He almost trips over while admiring the tree that's sheltering the blanket, but he quickly recovers.

Returning his attention to his friend, he makes sure he has Harrowheart's attention before giving a little wave. It's always hard to tell if someone's noticed you when they're listening to music. "Hello."

Someone's always watching when you trip, Viatorus, and this time is no exception. Harrow does a poor job of hiding his smile when he sees his friend up to awkward behavior, but he waits until he's spoken to to remove the buds from his ears.

"My man," he says, as if that's a normal sort of greeting. "I woulda met you someplace closer if I knew you'd bring as many books as it looks like you did. Come on, V, sit on down. Take a load off. Tell me how life's been. Anything interestin' goin' on at that mansion of yours? And how's your sister?"

It may be a normal sort of greeting where Harrowheart's from, but it gets a quirked eyebrow and a smile from Viatorus. He sets about unhooking the satchel straps from his shoulders, setting everything down carefully, if a little awkwardly.

"Oh, life's been... good. I have a few new theories to test regarding how to direct planar portals..." Realising that may be a somewhat boring subject, he glances to Harrowheart and offers up something else. "Isidor got me a cat."

"A cat!" That's unexpected news, but good nonetheless. Harrow leans side to side and looks around as if he expects it might pop out any moment.

"Is it here? What's its name? What'd she get it for? Is it nice? Can I pet it?" He folds his hands, wrapped and bound to his wrists, in his laps and waits about as patiently as he can manage.

Edited 2016-05-13 20:26 (UTC)

Harrowheart's enthusiasm catches him out, and Viatorus stops to stare at the undead. His slow processing of the barrage of questions is practically written on his face.

"Um... No. I-It needs to get used to the apartment first. A-And I haven't decided on a name yet. She... just said I needed one, so I was getting one. It's lovely. You can pet it whenever you want to visit." His eyes flit back and forth as he makes sure he answered all of the questions. "Oh, and it's a she."

Harrow smiles contentedly and goes so far as to close his eyes. The answers were good, and he's more than pleased.

"I hope she likes me. A lotta animals don't like dead things, that's what I learned. Worgen, too. Guess it's the doggy smell. I hope she gets used to me. Learns to like me, y'know?"

When he opens his eyes he doesn't speak right away. He watches Viatorus thoughtfully, that small perpetual smile on his face as always.

Eventually he says, "Is there somethin' in one of those books you wanna share? Or do you want me to go first? I done a little bit a' readin' lately. I might know some answers off the top of my head, if you already got questions about gods and magic and things on my world."

"She'll meet a lot of interesting people. I'm sure she'll get used to you really very quickly. She'll end up running to you when she's nervous, I'm certain." He offers a smile with his encouragement.

Jumping slightly as he remembers the books, he looks around and settles himself on the blanket. "Oh, I'm happy to let you share first. There's so much I want to know. Like how much your gods help your mages, and what kinds of magic you have. What magical objects, places and creatures you have too."

A laugh accidentally escapes him at the question of gods helping mages. He smothers his mouth with his hand and listens in all seriousness to the rest of the questions until Viatorus is through.

"Gods don't help mages where I'm from. Druids commune with the animal gods, the gods of nature. Some priests commune with their gods, but not all priests worship gods. Mostly... Gods... They protect their realms, and they defend Azeroth from demons. Ten thousand years ago, the natural gods fought against the Legion. A lot of 'em died, but they kept the demons from tearin' the world in two. They still couldn't stop the continents from splittin'. I don't think they're really all that powerful. If you ask me, they ain't really any different from the rest of us. Only difference is they live in the Emerald Dream. Sort of a perfect version of our world.

"The only god I know of that ain't one of the animal gods is Elune. She's the goddess of the night elves, the goddess of the moon, the hunt. They say she's gorgeous. The most gorgeous woman you can imagine. She sometimes blesses elves in battle, I guess? Wouldn't know, though. Not an elf. She's graceful? She likes owls, I think? And... She doesn't take any shit," he says with a laugh. "I guess she's a real vicious archer, and she's all about killin' her enemies. If I were a god-worshippin' kinda guy, she'd be my goddess. They say that the worgen curse was caused by her scythe. It fell in the battle against the demons and laid hidden in the ground until it reemerged a couple decades back. It curses people to become worgen, and controls us, too. Lotta folks wanted to take control of it. Dark wizards searched for it. Some held it for a while, but never for long. I don't think Elune's magic is meant for evil folks. I think she sees to it that they get what's comin' to 'em."

He seems to be done, and even goes for the picnic basket, but as soon as he touches it he stops.

"There are these things, too... People call 'em Old Gods. They're evil. Pure evil, no two ways about it. I've heard folks say they're parasites that live in the world and cause evil. Yogg-Saron was one I knew of. He was the god of death, and he lived under Northrend, where the undead went. He could invade the minds of people who touched Saronite, a metal that they said was made from his blood. Undead were immune to it, so we made our armor out of it."

He peeks inside the basket and continues on casually, "I guess the heroes who finally killed him said he looked like a giant mouth in the ground. Like... a head with mouths where his eyes belonged, and one big maw where a normal mouth goes."

Edited 2016-05-13 22:58 (UTC)

Viatorus quickly settles in to listen to the stories Harrowheart has for him. His full attention hangs on every word. Eyes wide with wonder, then squinting in sympathy, becoming distant at the thought of dream worlds, but soon smiling with Harrowheart again.

That only lasts until Harrowheart talks about evil gods whose blood he used as armour. He tries not to frown, but... it's there. Suddenly there are a lot of questions he's not sure he wants to ask, or know the answers to.

"Um... Who... Who killed him? Undead?"

"Heroes of the Alliance and the Horde, the two big world powers. They worked together to kill him. That means mostly the livin' were there, but I think there was at least one death knight there at the time. And if the Horde went, that means Forsaken – the other sort of undead. Not good folks."

He begins to draw items from the picnic basket. Long baguette-style bread, slices of white cheese with veins of blue mold growing throughout, and a bowl of chipped, red meat that appears to be steak. Next comes a knife to cut the bread and two plates to eat on.

"You got coyotes on Earth?" he asks as he motions to the meat. "It's an animal we eat back home. It's nothin' strange and exotic like a duck, but I think you'll like it. Make yourself a sandwich and I'll tell you about magical creatures."

At this point he's propped his head up with his hand thoughtfully, elbow resting on his knee. He watches the food being taken out but his mind is very much elsewhere until Harrowheart talks about the food.

Viatorus looks at him strangely and then his eyes track down to the meat. "That's... That's coyote? Is... Is that... safe to eat?"

"Huh?" Harrow looks down at the meat as if he expects to see something worrisome there, but it's still only meat.

"You mean like gettin' sick from wild boar? Nah, man. It's a little chewy if you don't tenderize it, and it's kinda greasy, but it's safe! I grew up eatin' this, and look at me now!"

He flexes his biceps and grins. Strong, dead, and dumb. Well, one out of three ain't bad.

"If you don't eat the sandwich I won't tell you about dragons and the Emerald Dream. You don't gotta eat the meat, but you gotta try the bread at least. My sister who lives in the big city made it. She says it's an elf recipe."

It's immediately obvious that he's going to need to eat something. He's not about to miss out on hearing about things like dragons and dreams. Though while he's not particularly conservative in his eating, usually strange food is delivered on a silver platter, and he doesn't eat much of it. This seems decidedly more dangerous.

Very carefully he picks out one of the smallest bits of meat in the bowl, pauses, and then pops it into his mouth. He takes time to consider the worrying piece of coyote before he swallows and nods. "It's... alright... You ate this all the time? Like chicken?"

Harrow stares at Viatorus in quiet confusion. "What's a chicken?" he asks, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

He can't keep it up for long, however, and almost immediately he grins. With a laugh and a gentle cuff to V's arm he shakes his head. "I know what a chicken is, we got chickens on my world. And... Yeah, we ate it like chicken! Sometimes we ate it 'cause they ate the chickens," another laugh and a roll of his glowing eyes. "They're pests, they're all over, and we didn't pass up food. Just pretend it's high cuisine and tell your ma you ate somethin' exotic today."

He takes a very small piece of meat for himself, because Viatorus shouldn't be eating alone, but he leaves the bread and cheese for his guest.

"So I know you like dreams, but I think I oughta talk about dragons first. They got dragons on Earth? You ever met one? Only dragons I ever knew were undead, ones we raised up, and they didn't really have personalities. I've seen some livin' ones from far-off, though! They... Mostly don't like the dead. And I never saw any when I was alive."

It's just as well Harrowheart doesn't keep up the charade for long, because a look of shock is quick to appear on Viatorus' face. Though there's still a second where he doesn't understand the cuff on his arm before it twigs and he smiles with his friend.

Slowly he goes to take some bread and slice some cheese onto it. These things he knows well enough to be more confident about.

"We do, but they're not as common as they used to be. Dragon hunting was very popular in the past. Now any dragons that are left are secretive." After he's carefully set up the first slice he adds, "We're descended from a dragon, the Durants. Very distantly, but it's where our magic originally came from. But I've never met one. I didn't know they could be raised from the dead, either. That sounds terrifying."

"You're... You're related? To a dragon? I... I didn't know that could happen."

Harrow's mouth shifts to the side and his brow creases in deep thought. He slowly puts another piece of meat into his mouth as he mulls this all over.

"Dragons can take humanoid form. Some dragons on my world love mortals. I guess it makes sense, I just never..."

Another moment's thoughtful silence passes before he looks at Viatorus, clearly in a new light. There's something shrewdly appraising in his eyes, yet also distantly thoughtful.

"Other than magic, can you do anything... Dragony? And what kinda dragon were they? What color? What was their name, or their duty? Shoot, V, I wanna know so much now..."

The lanky Durant taking a bite of cheesy bread while he watches Harrowheart with wide, curious eyes certainly doesn't look like he's related to a large, magical lizard.

"Oh, um..." He stops to think through those questions. "I... don't think so. They say the Archon is the closest to a dragon our family has come. They call him der Drache, which is German for 'the dragon'. I don't know what colour the dragon was, or that he had a duty. But his name was Nandhuglynd, I think it was, and he was a European dragon, not a wyvern or a worm."

His voice dips in and out of a German accent effortlessly as he explains all of this. Then he'll nibble on his bread a little more.

"Nandhuglynd," Harrow repeats quietly. The name comes to him naturally; perhaps it sounds like a word from his language? He nods as if the name alone imparts some clues about the dragon.

"What killed him? Or are dragons not immortal on your world? They are on mine, but that don't stop 'em from dyin' in battles."

It's both interesting and nice to hear the name repeated with such fluency. Viatorus will have to quiz him on language later.

"I don't know that anything killed him. He just... left. Vanished. He could have died but we wouldn't know." He shuffles a little closer. "What are dragons like on your world? What was it like seeing one? How did dragons get raised from the dead? Is there a reason they don't like undead?"

The word 'vanished' is an eyebrow-raiser, no two ways about it. But Viatorus doesn't seem to know more, and as much as Harrowheart would love to fill his had with thoughts of adventure and chasing down Nandhuglynd, some spark of sanity reminds him that Viatorus has other things to dedicate his life to. Dragons on Azeroth will have to suffice for now.

"Let's start with a little history about Azeroth's dragons. So... I told you the Titans shaped Azeroth, right? Well, the Titans had other work to do on other worlds after ours, so they left the planet under the care of these folks called the Watchers, who were big and powerful. Kinda like gods, I guess? But the Watchers... I don't know what happened to 'em, but they had to go away for some reason. Maybe they knew what the future held and knew some of 'em were gonna die? Whatever it was, they gave part of their powers to these animals called proto-drakes, and the proto-drakes became dragons. The first dragons created were Alexstrasza, Malygos, Ysera, Nozdormu, and Neltharion. They were the most powerful, so they became the heads of their 'flights' – their, uh... Families? And every one was given a different realm to protect.

"Alexstrasza, the Dragonqueen, the leader of all dragons, is the head of the Red flight. They call her the Lifebinder, 'cause the Reds' duty is to defend all livin' things. They fought against the Scourge in the war in Northrend, but they couldn't spend all their energy on it 'cause they were also fightin' the Blue flight back then.

"Malygos was the aspect of the Blues, the king and master of all magic on Azeroth. He controlled the leylines, and it was his job to decide how magic could be used by mortals. After the Legion was drawn to Azeroth by mortals' use of magic and most of his flight was killed, Malygos lost his mind. He fought against the other flights and against mortals. It all came to a head during the war in Northrend when Malygos decided mortals didn't have a right to magic. He was gonna overload the leylines and destroy the world. That's what they say anyway. Mortals and dragons came together to kill him, and they did, and we called that the Nexus War. Another dragon became the next Blue aspect, and he dissolved the flight after that. Blue dragons are free to do as they please now... Whether they want to or not."

Harrow pauses here and looks Viatorus up and down.

"What do you think you woulda done if you were a mage on Azeroth? Or if Malygos was the king of magic on your world? Would you stop doin' magic? Would you fight him?"

Edited 2016-05-19 14:06 (UTC)

He almost forgets about the bread in his hand, easily becoming absorbed in the story. Giving it time to understand that this isn't just a story to Harrowheart, this is history. It's completely fantastical. Wondrous, and terrible.

Then in that typically Harrowheart way, the undead spins the conversation around in a way that takes him out of his academic perch. He has to take a moment to consider his own opinions and it makes him pause.

"I... I don't know..." A pause. "I don't like fighting," he says with certainty. "But I couldn't give up magic. I couldn't stop dreamwalking. That's my whole life... I'd like to say that I wouldn't let him destroy the world, but... wars... fights..." He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. "They're... frightening. I don't think I'd be very helpful."

"Huh," is Harrowheart's thoughtful grunt of a reply. He needs to take a moment to examine Viatorus after that answer. His appearance doesn't give any deeper insight, though, and so he smiles briefly and turns his attention to the food, which he doesn't eat.

"Back when the war was goin' on, I thought folks who fought Malygos were selfish. I thought the mages shoulda set aside all their personal feelin's about magic and realized that Malygos was given the power and knowledge of the Titans to make the tough decisions and protect our world. They shoulda believed in him, in his judgement. He knew the consequences of mortals havin' magic – I mean, we all did. But the mages didn't wanna give it up. And I always thought that was... Unfair to him. Unfair to the world."

He rubs his palms together for lack of anything better to distract himself.

"Sometimes you gotta sacrifice somethin' that means everything to ya to protect other people. That's what I thought, and that's what I still think.

"But... None of us knew if Malygos wouldn't have destroyed the world even if we all gave it up. And the other dragons fought him, and they're wise, so I figure killin' him was the right choice. But, still... I'm always surprised that every mage has the same answer."

He looks around the arboretum to clear his mind. That's enough of that subject, it feels. Mages have their opinions, they don't change their minds, and there's no need to guilt his friend.

"Who're the other dragons? Uh... Nozdormu protects the timeways?" he tries, smiling in hopes that it might be interesting to Viatorus. "He's the head of the Bronze flight. It's their job to make sure no one alters time, even if it might stop wars or save lives. I always respected 'em, 'cause it's gotta be a hard job, y'know? I always figured they'd be detached from the value of life and all, but a friend's friend's cousin says he met Chromie, one of the most famous bronze dragons, and she cared a ton about mortals. Sometimes they even ask for help from mortals! They ask us to go back or forward in time and make sure historical moments go smoothly. I like to imagine the Bronzes are real cool dragons. Only thing they don't really like are chronomancers."

He finally takes another piece of meat for himself, and once he's swallowed it asks, "You know any chronomancers? Are there rules bout usin' time magic on your world?"

They have already come across the differences in their philosophies, and Viatorus is all too happy to skirt around more of them rather than engage. They come from such different places and that's really no reason to argue. He turns his attention to nibbling at the bread to help him ignore Harrowheart's scrutiny. The other's response does get him to stare back though. There's something about it... Something missing. Like he doesn't fully understand what giving up magic would be like...

It's on the tip of his tongue and then Harrowheart moves the conversation along. He schools his expression into one of curiosity again, allowing the feeling to take front and centre once more.

"I know one, a distant cousin, but she's very secluded. She lives in Switzerland, some people think there's a dragon living there too. Not Nandhuglynd, but another one." His hands start pulling the remainder of his bread apart while he thinks. "There aren't any rules, but mages tend to stop mages who are doing something stupid. Oraskis has told me a bit about time. He sees it a lot, how it can change and things like that. I think he'd like to meet the Bronze dragons."

After a second he smiles at Harrowheart. "I like the idea of mortals and dragons working together. I think time is a heavy burden, no, a..." His eyes roll as he searches for the right words. "It's a... precious thing. Caring for it alone, even as a family, must be a difficult task."

Oraskis! Now there's a name that really brightens Harrowheart's expression. He tries to rein it in when Viatorus gets serious about the gravity of time, but it's difficult.

"Yeah, yeah," he says in a rush, but clearly there's something else on his mind. It's hardly a few seconds before he quickly follows up with a change in subject.

"I liked Oraskis a lot. He's a farseer, ain't he? Do folks in your family come to him for advice? I wanna know all about him. I wanna meet him again! You think he could come to the Nexus some day? Do you figure you'll ever bring anyone other than Isidor around?"

Harrowheart is going to make me dizzy bouncing around the conversation like this, Viatorus thinks to himself, and then finds himself smiling. It's been too long since he found someone so bright and energetic about so much.

"Um, yes." He stumbles as his thoughts catch up. "He's a seer. A good one too. Everyone comes to him for advice, but he doesn't always give them what they want. A bit like the Bronze dragons, I guess. He helps them as much as they can, but some parts of time need to be protected, he says."

"I'd like to bring him here. He'd get along with everyone. He likes you, and he'd like to meet Amelia, and..." His smile is suddenly replaced by a thoughtful frown and then he smiles apologetically at Harrowheart. "His wife wouldn't like it very much though. She's his patron, you see, and she's... strict."

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