Character Development - Bari - RPLOG
The walk to the barracks doesn't take all that long, and soon enough, the 'Solacious' fox urges Lyas into what is probably his office. Soon enough, the door is closed, and the fox gestures for Lyas to take a seat. Only he's no longer a fox, instead having taken on the shape of a hawk... Wearing a different crest, albeit with similar equipment and medals. "Lets talk about your actions during the Fairlanding Riots," he offers.
Lyas follows the strange being to the barracks with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, still half-wondering what he's done to anger Angus enough that he'd send someone out to fetch him. When the door clicks shut behind him, and he turns to find that the being he's followed has abruptly changed form - his strongest feeling is one of relief, seconded by annoyance. It's not a call from Angus - just a visit from a Spirit. "Did you have to scare me half to death like that?" the cat asks, tail lashing. He slings himself into the most comfortable seat, the one behind the desk. At the hawk-being's proposal, he shrugs. "What, did I play your game wrong? Id've been more like to follow the rules if you'd made them clear from the start."
A small smile, a click of the beak, and a gesture at the desk. "Stay in character. A simple rule, I feel. And one you followed well enough, after being reminded."
"You hesitated about your plans for Bari. Why?" the hawk continues, as he pulls Bari's model from thin air. "Who IS Bari? What are his motivations. And why would HE hesitate?" the Player offers, as he takes a seat.
The cat frowns, then shrugs, propping his feet on top of the table as he regards the Spirit. The feline is the first to look away. "I don't know. He's a character I made up on the fly, an' he wasn't too well thought out, neither. And... well, what seemed like a fun idea for a board game was less so, when it was... in person." That seems to be enough honest exposition for the cat. Hitching a grin onto his face, he waves a hand, saying flippantly, "Mayhap I'll change my character plans, play a madman. One moment I'll be quelling riots with water math, the next I'll be fishing in the flooded streets from the rooftops. How'll that work with your story, eh?"
"If you, and he, are willing to put in the effort in mastering water-magic?" the Player offers, as his hand waves over the figurine, changing its outfit into something more befitting a mage. "What I want to see from my players is character-development."
"I am not here to admonish or punish you, especially not since you were put on the spot during that first session. I do, however, expect you to put thought into your character's actions and motivations."
The cat raises his eyebrows at that suggestion. "You don't know me well, if you expect I'll put effort into this game a' yours," he points out, with a smirk. "I make things up as I go - I'm no planner. Rope some other rube into your story, if that's what you're wanting." He pulls his dagger from his belt, tossing it up and down lazily, staring at the ceiling. He's being rude, not that he cares. The scene he'd played, as the unscrupulous Bari, had hit a nerve. The cat is feeling, in fact, as if his bluff has been called. Bari's character was entirely unsympathetic to the plight of others - and the cat himself, mercenary as he is, found himself quailing from playing it.
"Tell me, then. Here, for a moment, you have the choice of being whom you'd like to be. And yet, you go on a whim you regret only moments after, once you are confronted by the reality of the situation," the Player offers.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I daresay Bari is based on someone. Is that how you envision them? Is it who you want -them- to be?" the player adds, before gesturing at the window.
Lyas stretches lazily, arms reaching high up towards the ceiling. To all intents and purposes, he's bored by the conversation. "If I knew what sort a' game it'd be, that it were a matter of bein' who I /want/ to be, well, mayhap I'd've picked sommat a bit more exciting. A mage who controlled every rock for miles around, mebbe, or a king who swims in gold daily!" The Player's probing questions, the Spirits's assumption that the character must be based on someone, earn the Spirit a derisive ear-flick. Despite himself, though, Lyas finds himself turning to glance through the window, staring blankly at the scene portrayed there.
"You see that city down there? It is on the brink of revolt. Soon, you will have to make a choice. Bari will have to make a choice. He will have to pick a side, and decide what he values most. Himself? Money? The good of the people, or perhaps, his newfound friend?" the hawk offers. "Next we meet, I trust you will have a better idea of what kind of person you want Bari to be. His fate, and Marsh's, might depend on it," the hawk offers, as he presses the Bari-figurine back into Lyas's paw.
"I trust you will be able to make it home from the barracks?"
As Lyas's fingers curl around the figurine, he's already sighing and shaking his head. "You're still askin' me to put thought into this game." Tearing his gaze from the image of the chaotic city in the window, he hops out of his seat, with a brazen grin. "Well, Marsh's fate looks to be ending in a slave pen, the way things're headed..." The only one he's annoying with THAT sort of talk is himself. Kicking himself anew for making the unpleasant character that he did, Lyas sheathes the dagger he'd been playing with and nods to the spirit. "Course I'll make it home. Or at least, to the nearest tavern. Can't speak for what trouble I'll find after that."
"And that is what you want Bari to do to her?" the Player asks, still smiling faintly. Soon, he changes back to his foxen self, and opens the door. "Think about what I said, mister Lysander. You might be the only one able to make sure things don't end badly, next time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to. Other beings to talk to," he offers, tail swaying behind him...
With a flick of his tail, the cat is out the door. He doesn't intend to reflect on the Player's words - but he will, doubtless, late at night when the alcohol is hitting him hard. For now, though, it's easier to stroll past the frustrating spirit, flicking the being's nose with a fingertip. "Stick with the fox-guise if you want to go far in Firmament. Foxes rule this town, don't let no-one tell you otherwise," he advises. With a last, sardonic wave over his shoulder, the cat is gone.