[Closed to Nevin] On Churches and Casting

The brisk fall air whistled through the leaves of the oak trees flanking the road, a cobbled boulevard lined on all sides by forms of nature. People strolled down the way, chatting cordially, voices mingling into a quiet murmur of conversation as they passed Jacques. He half-listened as he made his way down the road, thinking of how best to prepare for the busy weeks to come as travelers made their way to Corone for the winter.

“I heard tell of this new religion coming into the city…” A woman said, in hushed tones. She glanced around furtively, as if assuring that no prying ears were about. “They want to summon some sort of demon.” She continued, shuddering.

Jacques’ ears perked at this, the information distracting his mind from the business matters he’d been contemplating. He’d heard rumors from some of his regular patrons, of this new Church of Crimson, as they seemed to be calling themselves. He smiled. A new tidbit of information to add to his discussions with the customers. Maybe he could milk a bit more info out of some more informed sources. He continued his walk, mulling the topic over. What were they coming into Radasanth for? What was this talk of demons that he heard? He shook his head. He’d have to keep his ears and eyes open, ready to jump on any trails he found in conversation and action.

---

Jacques quickly returned to the Tankard, prepping it for opening that night. Magic propelled chairs to tables with absent flicks of arcane power. The scent of ozone filled the building, as if a heavy storm had just finished. Flashes of violet and white energy glowed around the tables as Jacques placed them back into position. He sighed as the last table slid into place under the force of his guidance. He reveled in the pungent smell of his sorcery, clean and sharp. He stepped behind the bar and ran his hands along the stock.

“Tapping kegs, check. Liquor, check. Clean tankards, flagons, glasses, and such. Check.” A series of nods followed each note. He was pretty much ready. There were hours to opening yet, but he wanted to read through some of the local papers first and investigate the new ‘church’ that had sprung up. He picked up the first of the issues from the stack he’d collected from the local paperboys that morning. Perusing the various editorials and columns that each spoke of some new phenomena or attraction to visit, Jacques searched for mentions of a church or cult.

If only he could meet such a member. If only.

Nevin was heading back to the tavern he had been working in before. His skills in the kitchen were poor enough that he appreciated having the place nearby to write in - it was a far sight better than doing it himself. And this time, he had actually brought a couple blank notebooks to write in, thicker affairs than what he had used before. With any luck, he would be able to finish writing out the teachings today, and take the rough drafts to the renovated temple to give them.

So maybe he could have been forgiven - or maybe not depending on who you asked - for not noticing that the Bounding Tankard wasn't actually open when he arrived. His mind was already running dredging up old memories and half-taught lessons as the redhead prepared to work. But after opening the door and walking a few paces inside he stopped abruptly, and looked around, his dark eyes clearing from the fog of memory as he checked around.

"Ah Crimson. Tavern keep, sorry for intruding like this. I'd not realized you weren't open yet. I'll take my leave now, apologies." Nevin bowed, but as he did so the notebook he had been writing in slipped and fell, popping open as the man scrambled to pick it back up.

“Ah, Crimson”

Jacques looked up from the papers he was reading, ears perked. His hand darted to the dagger hanging in a sheath off his waist. When he saw that the man had simply come in, deep in thought, and not realized that the Tankard wasn’t open yet, his hand fell back to his side.

“It’s no issue, good man. Happens plenty of times a we-” Jacques began, before jerking back as the man fumbled his notebook and scurried to fetch the open book from the floor. Jacques raised an eyebrow and flicked a finger, sending the book sliding a few inches out of reach of the man’s hand. He attempted to make out any words from his vantage point behind the bar. “Wait, hm?” Jacques muttered to himself.

He raised an eyebrow at the man, curious now. That curse earlier, as he’d realized the bar wasn’t quite open yet. Crimson. Jacques shook his head. No man just arbitrarily uses colors as expletives.

“Sir, if I might inquire, what is your relationship to this thing, Crimson, that you mentioned? I’ve heard it crop up quite a bit in recent news. Rumors are afire in the city. Something about a demon-man, a new church, and self-mutilation” Jacques asked, stepping out from behind the bar. He motioned towards the notebook and it flew into his hand as if it were attached to a pulley. Snapping it shut, he held it out to the man.

Nevin watched, eyes slightly wide, as the book shot away from him. That should not have happened, the floor was level and he hadn't nudged it with his fingers. He looked up as the bartender spoke, and paused in his attempts at recovering his notebook as the man asked him about - wait. Demon man? Self-mutilation? Oh Crimson. Of all the things to be made public, it had to be stuff like that. Then the book shot up into the man's hand and he held it out to Nevin, and the red-head alchemist's alarm and concern shot up several levels. The man was a mage of at least some talent apparently, and skilled enough to casually use it for things like getting a book off the floor. Gingerly he took it and coughed into one hand, then set the books down on the counter.

"I... have been designated as someone of standing within the Church of Crimson. I suppose I can answer your questions. First though - self-mutilation is not a tenet of the Church, so I'll put your mind at ease there." The other issues were...accurate, if albeit a bit skewed. Nevin hadn't expected to run into anyone who would be asking him about that set of events just yet, so he hadn't thought of how to explain it. "The ah, church isn't exactly new. It's actually several years old, but it fell on hard times and the followers ended up scattered. One of them founded a new chapter here in Radasanth a few months ago and began spreading the word again." There, no need to put the Church members here into any kind of a negative light. He scratched the side of his cheek as he tried to think of how to respond to the bartender's last comment - the information about a demon man.It was difficult - Nevin didn't know what had been getting out to the public, hadn't realized that anyone had known what happened in that chamber. Maybe his description of it taking over the priest was what had gotten out, and been distorted?

"Ah... for the last, it wasn't like a Haidian Demon or anything like that. A demon of the Faith more precisely."

"I'm not sure if I should be put at ease or mildly disturbed. At least we know Haidian demons can be banished with a touch of magic and a bludgeoning." Jacques muttered. He made his way back behind the bar, grabbing an elegant glass bottle from behind the counter. Pulling out the stopper, he poured two glasses of the drink, pushing one across the bar towards the alchemist.

Jacques held the bottle up, admiring the intricate facets and swirls in the glass, and the amber liquid within. “A wealthy patron of mine gifted me this bottle, saying he enjoyed the service so much he believed that it was only the presentation that was lacking. A splendid gift indeed. Funnily enough, I’ve yet to use it for anything except my own drinking” He mused, eyebrows raised. He smiled warmly, stoppering the bottle and placing it back on the shelf.

"Now, if I might ask, what do you mean 'a demon of the Faith?'" Jacques inquired, leaning against the counter. He sipped his drink slowly, savoring the flavor. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass, watching the whorls and splashes forming and dissipating in the confines of the cup. "I've done my study on demons. I watched the summoning of an imp, the summoning of a greater djinn as well, if one classifies those as demons. While some cults put stock in these demons, I would not call them of the faith. Nor do they account for what little I have pieced together from rumors." Jacques continued, absently tracing patterns of his most recent runic study on the surface of the counter. The lines danced in his mind's eye, intricate yet easily recalled to memory.

"All of this makes little sense. And though you are welcome, I have fees for my hospitality in allowing you in," Jacques glanced to the clock hung above his head "Oh, three hours before opening hour?" He said, nodding. "Now, if you'd like, I've poured you a drink and perhaps we can have a bit of an exchange of information."

Nevin frowned and cursed inside of his head as he realized that his slip of the tongue had given away more than he intended. Alas, such was often the results from speaking in haste, as he had long ago learned. He sighed and slowly sank down into a seat across from the bar tender, propping his chin in his hand as he stared at the swirling fluid inside of the glass in front of him. Well, needs must when necessity drives, he supposed. One long finger reached out and began trailing along the rim of the glass as he organized his thoughts.

"The thing is slain. I felled the beast with my own hands." A simple gesture to the red tunic that he was wearing. "The craftsman who worked on it termed this leather 'magim beast' hide. So, if you run across the foul thing, they.... Well. Magic is effective on them. So too, would blunt attacks, I think. Blades would just... I should explain, just what it was." The redhead picked up the glass and took a slow sip, raising one eyebrow at the potent, flavorful brew. He could see why the bartender didn't sell this and instead kept it for himself.

"I originally thought that they were a simple Cult, fooled into following a madman. That is not the case though - the thing they worship has an actual God. Think of it as.... A reincarnation cycle of sorts.
They, we, believe in a grand flow of life, that which is properly called the Great Flow of Crimson. The Crimson, in short. It is the essence of life that flows through everyone, young and old,and of all races. Everyone is gifted by the Crimson in some way or another, but in the end we all draw life from the same source, the Great Flow. The primary tenets of the Church, then, are unity, and acceptance. We are all children of the Crimson, and in the end our personal share of Crimson will return to the Great Flow, in order to rejuvenate itself before being split apart, mingling once again before being redivided to live again." He frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, and leaned back to see if the bartender was still listening. The man did still seem to be interested, at least superficially, so Nevin continued.

"However, there is a division, a subsect. At some point, I know not when, a demon,
and I term if of the Faith because as far as I know the Cobalt-taken thing is specifically tied to the Church of Crimson, came in. It serves a being it called the Scarlet Made Flesh, and due to an error in judgement on its part, it thought I was one of its Kin. It told me it had infested a priest of the Church and was trying to bring its Master into this world. I objected to this, rather strenuously, and the Servant fell." For a moment, a dark look flickered across his face before it cleared away.

"But in the aftermath of taking that thing down, I learned it had perverted many of the teachings of the Church. I've actually been working on returning this branch of the Church to its roots." He suddenly coughed, and hid his face behind his cup as he drank, his dark eyes sliding away from the bartender. "Apologies. I did not intend to chatter your ear off."

“Hm? Oh that’s no issue, I take personal interest in all matters in the city, especially those pertaining to sorcerous and supernatural events. As a practitioner of a couple forms of magic myself, I take what note I can of happenings relating to it.” Jacques replied, nodding and smiling. He was genuinely interested, especially about this Great Flow of Crimson. Perhaps it was related to the Eternal Tap? Jacques made mental note of the possibility.

“This all does make quite a decent amount of sense.” Jacques said, shrugging. It did make sense for the most part, oddly enough. With his own knowledge of the workings of magic and the rumors flying around, the information fit into a wildly interconnected set of ideas that flew through Jacques mind as if a storm in his brain. He sipped his drink, mulling over all the new information.

Jacques turned, opening a cupboard and pulling out a small but well maintained journal, held closed by a thick leather strap, buckled on the front. “You should invest in one of these. Prevents such… accidents as occurred earlier.” He undid the strap, flicking through the pages of scribbled notes until he encountered his entry on demons. He pulled a pen from his pocket, making notes of what he’d heard. Arrows were quickly drawn to various correlations. Jacques nodded, pushing the journal and pen to the side.

“I’m curious, this Great Flow. It seems eerily similar to the Tap, though less a source of power than a source of being.” Jacques wondered out loud. “I work with runes to an extent. After a brief study of dwarven power. They can tap into nearly any magical system or source, if one can…” Jacques paused, unsure of how to describe it. Brow furrowed, he snorted. “Draw it? Describe it? Hmph. Even I’m not sure quite how it works, but those that taught me the basics explained them as a sort of universal conduit for all sorts of energy.” Jacques continued, drumming his fingers. His curiosity had been roused. "I wonder how that would interact with your Flow..."

“Now, excuse me for my presumptions, but I would believe that, judging by your appearance, this Crimson has touched you a tad more than others. Mayhaps due to that banishing that took place. But blood-red hair is not exactly common among humans. Nor are eyes that appear black.” Jacques said. His voice was tinged with an eagerness that he hadn’t felt in years, to learn more about something, and to perhaps tap into a new source of power. He grinned sheepishly. “I’m rather sorry for the endless talking but, I do rather love new information.” He finished. Darkness had begun to fall into the room, the contrasting light and dark casting long shadows. Jacques raised his hand and snapped, using a touch of magic to ignite the lamps above the bar. The sharp, clean smell of ozone filled the air as the lamps flickered to life, casting a warm and welcoming glow into the room. Jacques sipped his drink, waiting for a response.

For a moment, Nevin felt a little taken aback. It was rare for him to find someone else who was as enthusiastic about magic as he was - and he was probably to blame for that, as he generally didn't talk about his magic too much. Still, this was a refreshing opportunity to talk with someone else. But where to start? Nevin coughed and rubbed his chin.

"Firstly, I grew up in Salvar. So my knowledge of conventional magic, and this Tap, is rather limited. What I do know is that the Great Flow isn't really something normal mages can pull from. It is... Ah.
Well. Blood magic." He rubbed the back of his head as he stared into his mug. This was the most casually he had brought this subject up with anyone else, period - and yet, somehow, once again, as he was talking about it, there was alcohol involved. It was a strange set of coincidences.

"Moving from that - you're both right and wrong, in that I am more closely touchedby the Crimson than others. My hair color did indeed used to be a different one - and you're one of the few to note that my eyes aren't actually black. But it wasn't because of the banishing - I have been this way for several years now. Since I first encountered the Church of Crimson and its corrupt group, in fact. I thought I had rooted out all of those with a connection to the Scarlet back then, but events in the local chapel proved me wrong." Nevin took a long swallow, draining the glass of all of its contents before setting it back down firmly. He took a slow breath and rolled his shoulders - tense as he discussed this. It was... Strange for him to be so open, but he was trying something new - Stare, Rainee, and Madison had all accepted his power without a blink, no sign of revulsion. So he was trying to be more open about it, about what he could do.

Jacques stared inquisitively at Nevin, noting the sudden appearance of surprise, which was quickly replaced by a look of thought. He smiled, still slowly sipping his drink. Listening closely as Nevin explained briefly his connection to the Crimson and how he knew little of the Tap, Jacques nodded slowly. It was all quite a bit to take in, mental notes being filed away into the recesses of his mind to be thought about later. Jacques swirled the remaining swallow of amber fluid left in his cup, staring into the whirling liquid as if it were hypnotic. The flickering light of the lamps above their heads played off his eyes, illuminating the startlingly green orbs. He contemplated the man’s statements for a brief moment.

“So. Blood magic. Odd. Interesting though!” Jacques said, shrugging. He’d just last week heard of a criminal who killed people by ripping their bones out of their bodies telekinetically. Blood magic wasn’t that bad. Thaynes be damned, it was interesting. “I’ve heard of blood magic several times. Everybody seems to think it’s some awful thing. I’d say magic is magic, so long as it’s not used to harm unduly.” Jacques continued, studying the scholar sitting before him. He pulled up a stool and sat down himself, downing the remainder of his drink and raising an eyebrow.

“And you say that normal mages can’t tap into your Flow. I’ve never considered myself quite, well, normal. Perhaps you’d be willing to work with me on seeing if we can make an attempt?” Jacques inquired, eyes questing for a shift in body language, a tensing or relaxing. “You see, while I am a normal mage thus far, there’s only so much droning of ‘the elements are to be respected, not abused. Pure sorcery is dangerous. Meddle not.’ that I can bear. I’d like to expand my reach beyond the normal, if that’s acceptable to your senses.”

Jacques stood once more, fetching his journal. He flipped to a page filled with drawing of simple and complex runes, ranging from abstract concepts such as fire to overtly specific designs meant to fill a certain area with fire if activated with a certain amount of pressure. “You see, the applications are nearly endless. Now in a purely theoretical sense, if it’s source of energy be it blood or not, there should be a runic formula able to be applied. The key is finding the right one.” Jacques said, a tinge of excitement creeping into his voice.

Jacques shook his head. “No, no. Excuse me. I got a bit carried away. Sorcery and magic is my passion, and it tends to drag me on.” He muttered scoldingly, mostly to himself. He reached for a bottle off the shelf, this one non-alcoholic judging by the label, and poured himself a glass. A dark red liquid flowed out of the bottle. Jacques chuckled at the irony of the color, before stoppering the bottle and replacing it. “May I at least ask for a description of this blood magic? I wish to provide some sort of satiation to my awful curiosity.”

"Well. Hm. I don't know. I'm still getting a handle on what I can do myself. I primarily focus on blood alchemy - using my blood magic to draw out parts of an animal or a donor and make them into potions. I also have some skill in manipulating the physical structure of blood, controlling shape and density and the like. I... beyond that, I have not yet tried to experiment." Nevin rubbed his hand against his other bicep, frowning. He was being as honest as he could - and he was still figuring out whether or not his 'threads' were actually blood or not. He didn't know if this rune mage could use his runes to draw forth power from blood - it was entirely possible, even outside of the Church of Crimson people would use blood magic. But - Nevin didn't know what that would entail. He wasn't some kind of voodoo mage, using blood magic to harm others.

Perhaps that was something he could look into though, using the power of blood magic to fuel some kinds of enchantments? What he had done so far had primarily been focused on using inherent qualities in blood to do alchemy - but he knew there were more things that could be done. Trying to figure out how to use blood magic in terms of thaumaturgy might be interesting - could he use blood to create a binding between the blood and the donor, so he could use it to track the donor? Or - could he perhaps use the blood to create very specific medicines or poisons for that very same individual, keying the potion to the person whose blood was imbued in it? That was a possibility. Hm. The blood alchemist frowned and drummed his fingers on the table before looking up and blinking.

"My apologies. We can certainly try and see if you can tap into the Great Flow, if you want - it might not be safe at the moment though, because from what I know the current connection in this world is oriented more towards that negative aspect, the thing that sent its servants into this plane of existence. I've been doing research and some experiments myself, but from what I can tell... the original god of the Great Flow is dead." Nevin's frown deepened as he finally vocalized his fear and his suspicion. "So, perhaps for now, an experiment into trying to use runic magic would best be done on blood that I have created a connection to, to prevent an opportunity for that other thing to make its way here." That damn cult - he would have to make sure that he had destroyed every scrap of them, and reset any who weren't too far gone to the brighter, more healthy Church.

“Ah, so you a- oh.” Jacques frowned. It wasn’t every day that one started talking about dead gods of… sentient blood? He had no idea what in hell he was to think about that. Drumming his fingers against the counter and sipping his drink, he considered what to say.

“Well, uh. It’s a shame that you lost your, sentient blood god?” Jacques stammered, trying to tread carefully. “In more familiar territory, assuming your Great Flow assumes a form of energy just like any other kind of magic, be it the innate energies flowing through the earth, air, and sea or the leylines then I will be able to at least poke and prod. Who knows, perhaps even you could find something out about your cult-ish quarry.” Jacques continued, thinking.

He looked at the alchemist, examining his mannerisms. The man, who could be no older than maybe twenty five, seemed to have the bearing of a man three times his age. His blood red hair, not especially long, but still hanging down over his forehead, gave him an outlandish look. The darkness of his eyes belied little but an endless mystery, the sort of intrigue that accompanies those that society hasn’t immediately embraced. Jacques almost envied him, his experiences. He looked down at the counter, tracing the patterns in the woodgrains. The man was an enigma to Jacques, and he wanted nothing more to unwrap it. For a first meeting there was naught he could do but attempt to begin the process of introduction.

“The Church itself seems harmless enough. No worse than the endless amounts of other religions in the world. Perhaps yours is the right. Perhaps the Thaynes are right… then again those aren’t so much religions as cults.” Jacques said, raising his eyes to meet those of Nevin. Staring into them intently, he frowned as if something bothered him about them. Jacques shook his head and opened his mouth to speak.

“If you wouldn’t mind, perhaps we could move to the backroom? I have notes back there, perhaps we could exchange some information. But there is one matter to attend to before that.” Jacques continued as he moved out from behind the bar to stand next to Nevin. “So, while my fascination with your magic is pressing, I do figure this far into our discussion, we should at least get to know more than the details of each other’s sorcery. I’m Jacques, the owner and barkeep for this establishment. As you’ve seen, I’m a bit into the various areas of magic. Mostly to make my life a bit easier.” Jacques said, extending his hand.

Nevin blinked, slowly, at the outstretched hand. He reached out and clasped Jacques' hand, shaking it firmly. "Nevin Aimaparapoiitis, alchemist, owner and proprietor of Herbal Magick in Stonevale, and A Single Drop here in Radasanth." Nevin tilted his head to the side, a slight frown on his face as he gathered up his belongings to follow Jacques into the back.

He didn't know just how similar blood magic was to the Magic of the Tap. It came from a divine, or semi-divine, source from outside the normal plane. Growing up in Salvar, talk of magic was fairly heavily frowned upon so he had no idea what the magic that people normally used was like. Would it reassure the alchemist, or concern him greater if this rune mage could manipulate the blood magic like any other?

Nevin shrugged and calmly paced after the barkeep as he led the way into this back room. Inside, Nevin rubbed his chin with one hand then pushed some of the hair from his face with an irritated huff. "Now. You do realize that there is a problem with experimenting with this?" He tilted his head to the side and watched the other man.

"I'm manipulating what is generally considered the life force inherent in blood to work my magic. I can do it because of the connection to the Great Flow, but - well. Don't be surprised if you can't. I don't know how rune magic would interact with this."