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[P] Religious Revival; Keelin
Topic Started: Fri Aug 22, 2014 7:33 pm (1,169 Views)
Claire
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"And I do say that this here town is full of worshippers of the Abyss! Worshippers that live right amongst you, even amongst you very loved ones! If you want salvation from the woes of this land, from the violence, from the evil you must change your ways!" Claire looked up from her outside desk at the man hollering at the top of his lungs, his white robes soaked with sweat of effort. He stood upon a barge with sconses of burning incense and a pair of pretty young female assistants. Or monks.

Claire couldn't put her mind on what they were, precisely, but their robes had clung closer and closer to their pleasant bodies. The priest, even, wasn't bad looking with his broad shoulders and strong, masculine facial features. The Forward Path seemed to hold physical fitness in high regard. Or, at the very least held it in some regard. From behind her she heard a drunk whine about the noise.

The guardsman kept picking at the paperwork on her desk, trying to ignore the Deep Creek Diving Beetle that had taken up perilously close residence to her boot. There were some disadvantages to having her desk outside. While it was cooler, the water had risen enough she would need to get the heavy piece of furniture back inside soon enough. If it rose any higher, they'd need to evacuate the jail. Only a few more inches and the middle road near the jail and the jail's floor would be under water.

So there were some advantages to this small, strange barge that had taken up residence in a forest with a town who obeyed gods that few else did. The incense kept away the bugs, the shouting annoyed the drunks, and they were exceedingly pleasant to look at. The little

"The true path is the Forward Path! Along which you will find blessings of Celestia, blessings without compare! You will learn a moderate life, full of peace and calm! Celestia will protect you from the bandits, the worshippers of the abyss, that infest these woods!"

The Murderer King held no such religious leanings. He was from Nalai, which was considerably stranger. She also doubted his bandits held any beliefs beyond vague notions, given that they didn't want to attract the attentions of any supernatural force. The two women and the priest poled the barge further, around the tree. Another voice cropped up from the jail beside her.

"Ey' missy Claire, you think you could get me one of their lil' scrolls?" She didn't need another bleating out forward path nonsense, so she simply didn't answer. Then she looked up and saw another stranger in town. A woman with a wide brimmed hat, like a sheriff, and a big coat, like a sheriff. But her dress was altogether too extravagant, and her open coat revealed a button up shirt that strained against her bust. Claire mentally paused, and decided not to stare. Instead, she simply waved this lovely, curvy stranger towards her.

"Ma'am! Would you mind checking in with the town guard first? We'd like to know why you've come to Creekharbor!" Claire called out. Galea started from beside her, twitching her claws, and the diving beetle cast itself into the water.
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Keelin
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Keelin could hear religious bullcrap from a mile away, it seemed. She entered Creekharbor exhausted, irritated, and looking for all the cheap delicious wine she could get her hands on. The town was a champion when it came to wine and their specialty cheese -- a blend of goat's, sheep's and cow's milk -- but Keelin had never had a good enough reason to swing this far north in Norwood. Then, faced with a long wait from her information network on a document delivery, Keelin finally decided to make Creekharbor itself her reason for swinging north. It was just far enough away by horseback that getting there, vacationing for a few days and then going back to the Norwood Villages would take just as much time as she needed to kill in this particular instance. Besides, she had some coin she needed to blow on worldly pleasures. Been living too much like an ascetic lately. Win-win.

That got her wondering about just how strait-laced these human settlements were, but she figured it'd make her happier to just drown in wine and cheese.

The first warning sign that Keelin's vacation might not exactly reach that kind of ideal was the fact that a Forward Path preaching barge was bellowing drivel to the townspeople from Deep Creek. The religion had sure been trying to spread lately. No matter where she went lately, if there wasn't some established presence there was at least a herald shouting praise on a street corner. She almost got arrested by a Deboni horselord clan for counter-preaching. Life wasn't fair.

The second warning sign was the guardsman seated outside at the center of town flagging her down. Keelin stopped walking and just stared at the girl. "They train them up young these days, don't they?" At least the kid had been polite. The elf walked up to the desk, eying the exotic drake that was laying down at the girl's feet. It looked like something you'd more easily find in the mountains than in a big forest like this. Honestly, Keelin had been perfectly content wanting a pony when she was that age. "So, uh, how do I check in? Do I have to tell you my name?" Despite the elves having giant sticks rammed up their asses, their security was less strict than this.
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Claire
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Claire ignored the first jab, and slowly drew her eyes up to the woman's eyes when she approached. Claire was sixteen. Nearly a grown woman. Or growing, honestly. Her lack of nutrition during her miserable years had delayed her a bit. Claire looked up at her.

"Well, not so much a check in as a bit of curiosity. We've got a bandit problem out in the woods, and honestly travellers need to know about that. And of course we want an operating roster of all the bounty hunters who've gone into the woods after Murderer King Jaiten and never come back." Claire produced a rather long list of names and bounty hunting groups followed by member names. The vast majority were marked with a red line. "I'm Guardsman Recruit Claire, by the way." Claire explained. Her eyes fixated on the woman's missing eye, the only blemish on a pleasantly elven face. Claire's ears twitched a bit, a nervous tic that happened when she suppressed the others.
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Keelin
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"Oh. I'm not looking for Murderer Lord Jaito or whatever you said." Keelin looked over the list and whistled, clearly impressed. This bandit guy was a real problem. Not an angel, though, as far as she had ever heard, so it wasn't within her realm of expertise and she didn't need the bounty either. When Guardsman Recruit Claire introduced herself, Keelin figured she might as well have common courtesy. She extended her fingerless-gloved hand for a firm shake, keeping her single eye on the girl. "Keelin Madaricatu. Well, Claire, I hate to say it but my intentions are a lot more tame. Heard this place got lots of great wine and specialty-blend cheese. I want to stuff myself until I can't walk straight, then waddle slowly back to the Villages." Pulling back from the shake into a straight-backed stance, she grabbed the lapels of her greatcoat and gave a cheesy smile. "That's my plan and I'm sticking to it."

"We are all living in the shadow of the True World! Embrace perfection! Embrace utopia, Heaven, Celestia!"

"Unless, of course, you need someone to punch those pig[removed] in the mouth until they go away. I'd do that for free." Once the sermons and Keelin's anger died down, she looked back at the guardsman-in-training. She flipped from accented Common to fluent, rugged Elvish midway through. "Wait, aren't you a wood elf? <Why are you in some human town? Seen nothing but round ears all the way up to this point from the Creekharbor villages. Are you an orphan?>"
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Claire
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It was good to have a food traveller about. Claire shook her hand vigorously. In fact, the food tourism was tempting even for Claire. She thought hard. Food tourism with a busty, wide hipped stranger or sitting another night at home alone. "You know, my shift is just about over," it had in fact been over an hour ago but Claire had nothing better to do, "and I could show you around. I'm hungry myself." Claire finished off her paperwork, locked the desk and rose. Galea rose as well, snuffling the bottom edges of Keelin's coat.

The barge drifted by again. Where did they even get that barge? Claire's eyes slid past the barge, settled on the woman whose robes appeared to be made of fairly thin cloth, and then slid again. Keelin made quite a rude comment, but Claire agreed without saying as much. It would also be nice to push the Forward Path out of town, but there was no reason to do it They seemed harmless.

"You know, they might be annoying but they are harmless. Might as well leave them to preach." Claire responded. She did have half a mind to get Keelin to push the women in somehow, but squelched her unseemly desires. Keelin picked up on her ears. Claire shrugged until Keelin began speaking in elven. "I have no idea what you are saying. I grew up on Cascadia, I know a few words but not many. And my parents died years ago, so they didn't teach me much."

Claire lead Keelin along the middle road until they reached a small produce stand at the edge of town. A bounty of fresh blackberries, raspberries, black caps and blueberries ended up in Claire's sack. From there, she took Keelin to the cheese seller, which was one part of a greater warehouse. "Uh, can I have the eighteen month Creekharbor mix cheese? Just a pound wedge." The man sliced off a hunk. From there, they went to the tavern and sat down. Barkeep Claus looked at Claire a bit funny when she requested knives and a plate, but stopped looking at her funny when she requested a good vintage of local white wine.

Claire laid out the spread and nodded. "Now, you will be paying for half...and any wine bottles after the first. I drink sparingly." Claire was not a heavy drinker, she'd take at most two glasses. The woman across from her looked like she'd take the rest of the bottle and one more after that.
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Keelin
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Keelin scoffed at the idea of the Forward Path being harmless. "You have no idea what they're capable of. That's not random paranoia, either." She gestured to grab Claire's attention, then poked the elaborate orarion around her neck that matched the Forward Path style. Normally she wore the garment like an unusually large scarf, but traditionally they were worn draped around the body by some of the highest-ranking holy people in the system. Not that Claire was likely to know that.

"Hah! Me, getting a buddy even before I start drinking? You're nothing like any kid I ever met!" Once they were loaded up on berries, cheese and wine, Keelin tore into the meal with barely restrained enthusiasm. She had to mentally remind herself to savor multiple times. "Bah. Money's not a problem for me. Or getting drunk, for that matter. I'm in it for the experience. So I'm gonna pay for one-hundred percent, and you keep your money for... buying a house or whatever it is orphan teens need."

She smeared a blackcap on top of one of the bits of cheese and took a bite. Her delight reflected on her face and the excited sound coming from the depths of her throat following the chewing and swallowing of it. "This is fantastic! Well worth the journey. These humans are brilliant." The true reason she came here tickled the back of her mind. For a while Keelin felt like she had been slipping back into her old self. Rejecting pleasures, instinctively going through life with tight and utter control over everything that affected her mind and body. Paradoxically, this tame hedonism was making her feel like she was more in control of herself -- in control of her rebelling against her old religion's tenets, at least. She pushed those thoughts back down.

"So, orphan from Cascadia, huh? Lovable rogue from the island-tops or living in desperate, soul crushing poverty on the lower ends? Don't lie, I've been to Richimon. And heard of the Inverted Ruins. Yeesh. Makes me almost feel better about my own life. What brought you to Norwood then?"
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Claire
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Keelin was a member, or former member, of the Forward Path. And had left it. But she was still paranoid about them, even though the Forward Path seemed harmless enough. Other than them getting that barge. Where had they gotten it from?!

Later, Keelin offered to pay for the full meal. Claire nodded, weakly, a bit begrudgingly. She had things she could buy with the money. "If you say so." Claire ate the cheese and berries with relish, but was slow to drain her glass of wine. She knew better. The conversation shifted towards Claire's childhood.

"Until my parents died, I was in good housing on Cascadia's top. A cute little house. My mom was an airship's captain and my dad was her first mate. It worked, somehow, given the air navy never split them. Then the Air Navy sent the ship on a long mission. They never came back, the Navy accused them of desertion and didn't pay out the loss benefits to me. So when the money ran out, I hid in the inverted ruins. I found Galea down there, made a meager living and eventually fled when it became too much, and Galea became large enough to fly. I had wanted to go up to Norwood, but I ended up taking a trail north to Creekharbor. I don't feel like it was a mistake. Everyone here is quite nice, and it'd be quiet...provided the Murderer King wasn't so close. I went through the Richimon slumland as quickly as I could during the day. Galea, even though she was a bit smaller then, is a pretty good crowd-clearer." These days Galea barely fit through the doors without squeezing through. Soon enough she'd be incapable of using the high road bridges and would have to fly between branches.

"Although I don't want to use her as a mount, well, I had hung from her claws when we left Cascadia, ever again. I respect her too much, she's the only family I've got." At this point, Claire realized she was halfway through her second glass of wine, and blushed brightly enough it could be seen through the rosy tinge drunkenness had already planted on her cheeks.
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Keelin
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"Wow. Serious assholes up in Cascadia. More than I realized. So basically their stupid system screwed you over after a tragedy, no one wanted you, so you had to live a life that was so horrible you had to literally escape from it." Keelin leaned back in her seat, propping one arm over the backrest while she crossed one leg over the other. "You know what? I'm pissed, but I shouldn't be so surprised anymore. This world doesn't know jack [removed] about taking care of its kids. Doesn't give a damn about them unless they're their own, and even then it isn't a guarantee. The orphanages are crap, the street kids are treated worse than animals, it's all a mess. What does that say about our society, hmm?" Keelin shook her head in disgust. After chewing another piece of delicious cheese she pulled off her hat and set it down over her knee, then took the ribbon out of her auburn-dyed hair so it fell loose around her shoulders and upper back.



"So I said, 'Well, screw you! I can fly now!'" The group the two of them had managed to attract to the table broke into drunken laughter as Keelin regaled them of a story in her characteristically animated manner. Keelin herself wasn't even close to tipsy, but it was always fun acting with less reservation around people who seemed at least halfway interested in what she had to say. "Anyway, I beat the crap out of Abas, and when he died I surfed on his corpse all the way until landing. And yes, flying was just as great as it is in a dream. Especially when you can fly and kill ang-- er, monsters."

Keelin almost jumped when one of the human ladies wrapped her arms around her arm all of a sudden. Her breath smelt strongly of alcohol when she blurted out, "Were you hurt at all?"

"Pfft, I was fine. I'm strong and good at holy magic. See?" She held up her hand and snapped her fingers. A symbol made of molten light, likely Celestial in origin, appeared just above her thumb. She used it to light the cigar she'd just pulled out from the inside surface of her coat. "Hey now, Bea, you're getting a bit too close. We got kids around, and this one can arrest you for indecent conduct or some [removed]."

"Aww, but our little Claire is so cuuuute! You shouldn't be so mean!"

Just as Bea was making her way over to Claire, a trio of figures burst into the tavern. Keelin's eye snapped over to the front doors, face fast transforming into a loathsome scowl. "It's you people! What, was no one coming to your stupid barge?!"
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Claire
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Keelin had lots of stories. While everyone else listened in a raucous manner, Claire listened intently. She studied and considered words expanded into boasts, but it was easy to pick the truth and lies from what Keelin said. And the truth outnumbered the lies. The woman barely needed to boast. She was a hero. She clutched her hands together. Claire could do all that if Keelin could. They were both elves. Keelin probably had a more fighing-oriented background than Claire, but Claire would try her hardest. As the lights swayed and more and more alcohol was dolled out, Claire was lost in a heroic realm. She had settled as a guardsman. She could do more than this. But she'd get her licks in here, her experience. Learn from May, John and Valerie. Maybe even Keelin.

Her train of thought was suddenly shifted by the press of something soft on her arm. She looked to the side, at Tanner Bea. Her eyes drifted from the woman's face to her full breasts pressing into her arms, squishing together in a lovely manner. Claire tore her eyes away from the woman's cleavage, thankful her near-drunkenness had disguised her real blush.

Then the Forward Path priests appeared, no doubt looking for a bite to eat. Claire rose, her arm brushing along Bea's soft body and quickly put herself between Keelin and the monks.

"She wears the ancient vestments of our order, and yet acts with hedonism!" Both things were true, admittedly. But Claire didn't particularly care for the Forward Path. Claire adjusted her coat, making sure the steel shield of the Creekharbor Guard was emblazoned above her right breast.

"As a member of the Town Guard, I will kindly ask that both parties-"

"You were partying with her! And you are drunk!"

"calm down and use opposite sides of the tavern. We don't need to fight each other when the Murderer King is no more than ten miles away!" Claire shouted. But, of course, the zealots weren't fully satisfied.

"Make her remove the orarion! That's all we ask, no misrepresentation of our order!" Claire still didn't care, and had a strange suspicion that Keelin had used the garment as a bra once. This brought a stupid grin to her face.

"I knew it, you are all bigots here! The Forward Path is the one true way, the way to denounce the evils of the Abyss and gain the blessings of Celestia!"
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Keelin
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"Hey! I earned this thing!" Keelin stood up, hands balling to fists.

"Just because we are religious does not mean we are gullible," the priest snapped back.

One of the younger priestesses gently tried to get the man's attention. "Herald..."

"Not now. Not until this idiot abides common sense."

"Some herald you are, insulting and belittling people. You don't know a damn thing about how people's minds work. I bet you won't even last another night in this town. No wonder you had to... somehow obtain that barge and come all the way out here to the middle of nowhere!" Keelin took a couple warning steps toward them, but stopped before crossing the invisible line that the kid elf had set down. "And what's with this dichotomy crap you're peddling? Have the human sects of the Path fallen so low that you have to set up the Abyss as the ultimate evil?"

"Herald. Excuse me. I'm so sorry, but I think--"

"Not now, Sia!" The priest held up his palm, commanding burning holy light to appear in intricate symbols all across the skin of his hand. "You have no idea what it means to wear that orarion, iconoclast. It is a symbol of one of our highest achievements. And you look nowhere near as close to the Stewards as what is required."

"Translate your cult-jargon for the crowd, you fool. Close to the Stewards, huh? The angels of Celestia, you mean, the ones using the Forward Path as a tool to manipulate Chaonites. You could say I'm close to them, but not in the way you reckon."

"Herald, dammit, this is the angel hunter Keelin Madaricatu," the priestess finally blurted out. "The Saint-Apostate."

A long silence passed in their little corner of the tavern save for the sound of Keelin taking one heavy step forward. She placed herself slightly in front of Claire, more as a protective gesture than an aggressive one. The Herald took one step back, opening his hands protectively in front of his priestesses. "So it is."

"I know you guys are harmless. Lot more than other heralds I know of. No way your evil religion will get a foothold here. So just leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone." Keelin couldn't even believe she was saying that. A few years ago, she would've massacred them on the spot and been happy about it. Yet this time, all these niggling thoughts kept her punches pulled. She decided to verbalize what turned out to be the silliest reason. "I don't want to damage this place. There's delicious cheese and wine here. And an innocent kid I don't want stuck in the crossfires."

Dammit. Now everyone in Creekharbor knew she was an angel hunter. She'd have to grab at least one cheese wheel as they ran her out of town, surely.
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Claire
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So the argument went back and forth. Keelin was an angel hunter, which didn't stir the drunken crowd much. The Forward Path were being too absolutist and had strayed from the path. Keelin had earned her orarion. Keelin blocked the way between the Herald and Claire, leaving the guardsman a moment to come up with a plan. She walked back to the kitchen and immediately siezed an order for another party, grabbing the tray from Waiter John's hand.

"John, go and get water for the priests." Claire whispered to him as the standoff continued. She walked the distance, and immediately pressed the tray of goat stews into the priest's hands. Waiter John appeared with a tray of water, which he pressed into one of the priestess's hands.

"We don't want a fight so I must kindly ask that we seat you outside. We'll bring out tables and chairs." Claire said. The priest looked like he wished to bicker more. "Please. Any strife in town will draw the Murderer King Jaiten upon our heads, and considering what he has killed, I doubt there's much we can do to stop him. Creekharbor is a place of peace, and I'd rather not ask the rest of the Guard to pass judgement on your annoyances. You are allowed to preach here as long as you cause no troubles." A table shuffled by, held by Sheriff Valerie and Waiter John. When had Valerie come back?

"I...I respect your wishes, Guardsman...what is your last name?" The priest asked as he shuffled out.

"Mairuth, but first names first, here." Claire answered. In short order a little table was set up, with a lantern sat upon it. It looked surprisingly nice. Claire returned to Keelin and looked at her, hard.

"You hunt angels?" She had half-expected it, given the descriptions and the names of the creatures. Valerie reappeared next to Claire.

"I hunted angels once. Not easy opponents, but as the head Sheriff once explained, you've got to fight extraplanar interests in the material plane. Neither side is harmless, even if Celestia has actual good beings that truly believe they can make the world a better place. Always remember that Celestia and the Abyss are locked in a war, and war is fundamentally an evil." Valerie explained. The werebear smiled. "I am Sheriff Valerie of Distant County. Keelin Madaricatu, I hope you won't cause any more trouble in the region? I'd rather not drag your ass into county jail."

Claire looked between the two. Valerie's simple statement seemed fundamentally true. Cascadia practiced war, so how could it be infinitely good? It must have evil elements, and elements that wished not necessarily evil but manipulation of the material plane for their own goals.

"I, uh, haven't decided you are evil or anything, Keelin." Claire reinforced. The woman had looked distraught when her identity was revealed. "You can stay in Creekharbor for the time being." An urge in her head wanted her to ask for training from this woman. She knew magic, something Claire had always wished to dabble in. And she was a true hero, if not a bit hedonistic.
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Keelin
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Keelin couldn't hide the shock from her face when her angel-hunting habits were considered mundane, not evil, and even were shared by the local sheriff. She gave Valerie a smile and a firm handshake. "Well met, and I couldn't agree with you more." A part of her wanted to whoop and do a little dance of victory. Nowhere else, not even among demons, was she this well-accepted for who she was. Except that whole 'threatening to throw her in jail' thing. "No, ma'am, I wouldn't even imagine doing such a thing! I'm on vacation. I just want peace."

After easing back into her previous revelry, Keelin realized just how often she had to lie in her daily life just to do normal things -- and how happy she was when she could just be herself. This was herself, right? Cracking jokes and telling stories and being all happy? Calchaem would disagree. He'd try to bring all the anger, uncertainty, self-hatred, and fear up to the surface and tell that that was her real self, and everything above that was just an act. Then he'd offer his own solutions. Keelin kept a smile on her face but forced back a shudder.

Dismissing those thoughts, she gave Claire a big hug. "Why, you people are some of the most welcoming I've ever met! I'll buy a lot of wine and cheese and not destroy anything -- that's a promise." She looked around. "Wait. It's pretty late now, isn't it. Past your bedtime! I say that to you as a guardsman, not a teen-ager, haha! Go home, sleep off all that wine and I'll see you tomorrow."
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Claire
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Keelin seemed quite happy with her acceptance, albeit Claire felt it wasn't universally held. There were still those that were nervous about having another infamous personage amongst them. Sheriff Valerie spoke from the point of view of Balefire, which was altogether a different city than most. Claire, at least, believed Keelin's actions were just.

"Ah, goodnight then Keelin." Claire agreed. Valerie seemed to agree with Keelin's suggestion that she go to bed as well, telling by the woman's glare. Claire rose and left the tavern, passing by the trio of priests as she went. She waved to them, as she went and got nothing in response. But they did seem to be eating with relish. Their barge was tied to the docks right beside the tavern. Claire walked down the middle road, her eyes checking to make sure each torch she passed was lit. Then she came upon her pleasant little house and walked within, locking the door behind her. She stripped and stumbled into her bed, falling asleep to dreams of a heroic Claire.




Claire found Keelin not far from where she left her. The woman had no doubt discovered that the rooms were full, but Claire didn't feel like telling her that last night out of fear of possible happenings if she took Keelin home. She prodded Keelin with the toe of her boot.

"Good morning, Keelin." Claire said She knelt and handed the woman a bowl of berries. "Sorry about the housing situation, we are full up on useless bounty hunters." Claire was in her full uniform this morning, shield on her back and her big iron bar at her hip. "This is my day off, but, ah," Claire looked around quickly, "Can you show me...some things? Like magic? The town druid has no patience for teaching, and I've always wanted to learn."
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Keelin had her chair leaned back onto its rear two legs, back of her head lolling against the wall, arms crossed and legs propped on the table. She started awake at the sound of Claire addressing her. Working feeling into her sleeping limbs and sore neck, the angel hunter picked up her tilted hat and resettled it on top of her head at a more reasonable angle. Keelin laughed nervously at Claire's apology. "Better than some nights I've had, that's for sure," she muttered. Even though it was the guardsman's day off, Claire was in full regalia for a reason that soon became apparent. Taking the bowl of fresh berries in one hand, Keelin rose from her chair and started toward the tavern's exit. "Let's go somewhere more open."

Open areas were hard to find this deep in Norwood, but they could at least get further away from innocent people or buildings. Keelin scoped out some of the town and found a little clearing, a park or something near the shoreline of Deep Creek -- that would do. "You might be wondering why I accepted your offer so easily. It's not just because I have nothing better to do until the taverns fill up again. You'll understand why when I make my point. Now, listen closely! Magic and physical combat are much, much more similar than people think. They both need conditioning and constant practice in order to be effective. And just like learning swordplay, getting good is a matter of control and creating muscle memory. Also, unless you have some kind of deficiency, your body wants to unleash its magic. Otherwise your magic will atrophy like an unused muscle and start bleeding into your emotions, desires and other things idiots don't know how to handle."

She realized that her rambling was probably making no sense, but felt like she was reaching her point. "Casting magic is about mental control. When you're performing an act of physical strength, you're turning a desire into a physical reality whose effectiveness is governed by your physical conditioning. When you're casting a spell, you're turning your willpower itself into a reality, and how effective that spell is depends on how focused and controlled you are no matter what's going on. Understand?"

To demonstrate her point, Keelin took a seat cross-legged on the grass across from Claire. "Have you ever meditated before? It's about mindfulness, not complete and utter calm -- at least for beginners. The first step to mental discipline is being constantly self-aware. Too many people these days just go around all impulsive, and that makes them crappy spellcasters. They don't realize when they're angry, irrational, or being pulled along by stupid worldly impulses. Okay, that makes me sound like a massive hypocrite but I swear I have a reason for what I do in my own case so ignore that whole bit yesterday."
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Claire
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Keelin was significantly more cheerful than Claire thought she would be. The guardsman took a parfait with fresh berries and granola as they left, and ate it quickly before they reached Root Hill, root bundle that the townsfolk had covered in short grasses and built up so it served as a sort of park even during the rainy season. More importantly she was bouyed by hope. Keelin was just going to teach her without asking for payment? The woman, despite her gruff exterior, rough mannerisms and distinct choice of careers was quite nice. Galea slumped on the edge of Deep Creek as Keelin spoke, and was quite clearly trying hunting for a fish that was stupid enough to near the surface. Claire, however, listented intently. Keelin knew quite a lot, and half of her wanted to say she knew more about magic than stodgy Verlin or an academy mage.

"Meditating?" Claire had never meditated before. In her mind she pictured the proper pose and removed her jacket, hanging it on the tree that Root Hill surrounded. She sat, in what she imagined to be the proper pose, her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. "I also don't think you are a hypocrite. There's a time to relax and a time to be series." Clare explained. She sat, closed her eyes, and became mindful. This was a process she imagined of picking up the various sounds around her. There were a few dragonflies. She heard the distinct, keening cry of a threatened diving beetle. Some laughter and then a series of heavy splashes, likely some kids. It was, admittedly cheating being an elf. Her ears could pick up much. She heard heavy footsteps closing towards her, likely Galea. She smelled the scents of rainy Creekharbor, musty wood, turbid waters and moss. The cries of barn swallows leaving the town hall. Then, snuffling and the feeling of something close. Wind passed by her cheeks as the snuffling sound moved right into her ear. She opened an eye to look at a curious Galea.

"Sit, Galea." Galea flopped on her side and then dragged herself back down to the creek. Claire heard the drake's claws dig into the earth and the sound of her dragging her scaled belly across the ground. Sometimes the drake was a poor listener.
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