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"Burn! Burn like my flaming heart! May all of you feel the eternal pain that surrounds me." a crazed magus yelled as he hurled balls of fire at people and at the building that stood before him. A shame that it was wood. Well, it would burn well indeed, which couldn't be too good for those that were inside of it. The air, it reeked of burning flesh and bone, a smell so sickening. In the midst of the burning chaos a man covered in bright dancing flames spun and reveled in his glory and triumph. No, was he man? Could you call him that? He had the appearance of a corpse. How could someone live like that? Fully engulfed by the flames that he once loved so deeply.

"Oh victory! Triumphed have I!" several voices boomed as one. "Cursed me you have. For what I ask, for my life of the flame the burns so brightly, the giver of life?" the flaming corpse hissed as it raised its' hands up to the celestial heavens above. "May you find eternal torture in the flaming depths of hell to which your kind has once exiled me." as those words were spoken, the wizard's burning eyes slightly closed, at the feeling of utmost hatred and loathing.

Giving another maniacal laughter, Blazirius began advancing on the small tavern. Oh how the pain of others and the screams of torment and horror washed over the lunatic. He reveled in that feeling, filled with joy and pride. This was clearly a rampage. No one was spared from the burning desire of revenge. Men, women and children, all fell at this monster's hand and yet it fell no remorse or pity, not even the slightest drop of regret. All that was felt was joy and satisfaction.

The tavern was now aflame, with people rushing out, panicking, and pointing to the blazing figure in amazement as they ran toward the wells and the rivers to quench the fire's thirst. "Death to you all!" the flaming figure whispered to himself as it held up a woman's head up to the level of the scorched face. "Will you be remembered? No. Who would remember you? Only your cattle and perhaps your children... if they live." just as those words were spoken, almost as if on command, the disembodied head burst in flames, as it flew towards the tavern's wall.

"Hold me in regard as I am giving you all a grand cremation so that your ashes may live and see the world." Sadistic he was and an immortal as well. No, not the immortality of a god, but a special type that was meant to curse this beast. Flames would never harm him, old age wouldn't kill him and death couldn't come by suicide or by commanding another to give it to forsaken corpse. True, fire couldn't harm the magus but those flames that surrounded the body gave him unbearable, everlasting pain. Only briefly could it be forgotten, but then again, this type of pain was nothing new, the body was used to it. Worst of all was water. It could offer temporary reprieve and let the body regenerate to its' former self. The problem was that the flames burned with such intensity that the water would evaporate within an hour's time. Without water to cool of the flames, the skin again melted. This was endless, and no way to end it, as far as the wizard saw.

For a moment, the dark-haired man was silent, eyes staring out at the waves as if retrospective. Then, he did something unexpected.

He laughed.

"Ahh... curiosity, is it, then?" It figured, of course, that that would be the reason for her accompaniance. He'd hoped for something more noble, or more interesting... but, no. Just the utterly normal desire to seek knowledge.

Normally, Crev would play the modest sort, or the mysterious. He didn't like personal questions... those who pried too much into his business invariably found themselves repelled, after all. But, in Cadence's case... well, it seemed a fair exchange for her help, to answer a few questions. Assuming she kept to a reasonable limit, of course, she wouldn't find anything that she wouldn't want to know. And if she overstepped that limit... well, she had every excuse to disassociate herself with him, already. She could scare herself away, if she wanted. He had no reason to conceal anything from her... he never hid anything from anyone else who wanted information, after all.

"If you've anything to ask, then simply do it. It will do neither of us any good for you to be left to make your own conjectures."

Such was the state of the barge's passengers--packed like sardines in a tin can--that Cadence's jostled elbow led to ripples like a rock dropped in water--feet stepped on, packages dropped; a quiet hubbub of apologies and replies. Accustomed to this sort of thing the villagers took it all with grace, reassorting themselves and their baggage before settling once more. One of the people disturbed, however, had only scowls for those who bumped into him, pulling the cowl of his robe lower. A pocket of space formed around him, so much of one as could be spared in such tight conditions--and to all indications the surly gentleman liked it that way.

Meanwhile, another fellow--young still, though with a shock of cloud-gray hair and a band of scar tissue through one eye--leaned out over the edge of the boat and smiled at the water passing beneath. Though to all appearances he was daydreaming, he certainly noticed the commotion behind him, and at length managed to wiggle his own way in the direction of the noise. Crev's laughter--and commentary--did not go unnoticed either. Much like the incident with the book on the docks had not gone unnoticed.

Though one-eyed he might be, Tahkroi was rather keen with the one eye he had left. Another little wiggle got him between two chattering farmwives, a space from which he had ample opportunity to eavesdrop. There was no need quite so insistent as the itch of curiosity, and he had every intention of finding out where these two were going--and just what was so special about that book.

The girl smiled warmly, tucking a bit of hair back behind her ear as she did so. "Perhaps I will, but not right now. I have a feeling..." She paused a moment, looking out toward the water, what she could see of it. "Something's happening finally."

This last comment was quiet, partially to herself as much as it was toward Crev. Her hands tightened on the staff she carried, knuckles showing up white for just a moment before she relaxed. Her eyes looked back to Crev once more, this time shadowed with something she hadn't said, just as his were always shadowed with the things he left unsaid.

"It will be several hours still until we reach town. It's a long journey, but hopefully it is worth our trouble. I do have one question before we arrive however. What are you looking for at the library?" It was the most she'd said all at once, and she blushed just a tiny bit as she realized how much she'd said.

Research. "Research" could only mean a few particular things for someone of Crev's apparent age and social standing, none of them exactly above the table or wholesome. It's not like there weren't perfectly decent occupations for magicians, hedgewizards, and sorcerers--it's just that so many of them didn't choose a life selling love philters to farmwives and setting the bones of rosy-cheeked children.

Tahkroi snorted to himself. The very imagining of it was a little ridiculous. "Magic" was practically synonomous with "no good"--where one was, the other would likely follow in far too many cases. He leaned back, reaching up to run a hand through his hair and reduce it to yet another state of disarray, before elbowing a middle-aged merchant out of the way. He gave the man not so much as a "sorry" in favor of taking up a position as close to Crev as he could manage, before clearing his throat.

"So it's magic you'd be dealing in then, wouldn't it?" he inquired, his accent one derived from a hillfolk dialect. "That would make you more or less of a wizard as well--wouldn't it?"

Grace was something that happened to other people, and as such, Tahkroi was exempt from it. He smirked, an expression that did very little for the scars seaming his face, and rocked back on his heels. "Well, now," he said meditatively, as Crev affirmed his "lucky" guess. "That's downright convenient, isn't it? It so happens I might be looking for just such a one as you to help me with a little 'research' of my own."

A lock of his gray hair fell across his face; he brushed it impatiently aside with a hand and continued: "So happens I'm also willing to pay quite a bit in the way of coin for help. Or protection," his pale eyes travelled to Cadence, an assessing look in them, "if that's more to your fancy. Though I'd like a sample of your work, y'see, before you see the color of my money."

There fell a moment's silence, before the scarred man looked up from the two before him, narrowing his eyes at a far-off shape in the sky. "--Now, does that look like a plume of smoke to you two? Say, a little ways out from where we launched this bit of wood?"