Adeline
*What price would you pay for eternal life?*

The first time that Atticus heard this question it was during his time he spent with the Hands. The young man was wealthy and outclassed mages with decades of study by the time he was in his late teens. Even if the academic field wasn't a necessity for his talents he was always voracious when it came to the consumption of knowledge. Yet in all his studies, all his research and experimentation, the young Xelnore stuttered out an answer to his instructor that he believe sounded correct.

*"N-None... Living forever would be a curse if nothing else"*

The young prodigy sheepishly answered. The look of expectation in his instructors eyes quickly shifting to disappointment in such a bland answer from a talented young man. Despite the sheer embarrassment he felt when he exited the lecture hall, nearly tripping and breaking his neck as he raced down the staircase, he never thought of it for over a century. After all, what more thought was there to be had? He's heard people he once believed to be much smarter than him give their answers. 'You'd outlive everyone and everything you cared about' and 'Life would become so boring' and everything you'd expect from the comfortable and the content. Atticus was a High Elf granted an absurdly long life, what need would he possibly need for more time?

It wasn't until a century later, when Xelnore lay in the Blackwater Swamp, his fine robes now slick with grime as he hid from the mages who he revered so hunt down their former enforcer. Close minded fools. Yes, Atticus had been grossly abusing his position to gain access to the entirety of the orders forbidden magics and artifacts. In all the time he spent in study there was not a single item lost and not a single death because of it (that they knew of). But it was in that moment, having every attachment in his life being taken away due to his insatiable hubris that he thought of that question again.

*What price would you pay for eternal life?*

*"Everything"*

He asked that question not more than an hour ago to the traveling artificer, Jaroth Stormshroud. An inventor of some renown who had recently been welcomed to Findara by the Mage's Hand to host a seminar on his discoveries. Atticus was quite familiar with his work, having read it verbatim during his travels. But he found most of it dreadfully dull. Mana stabilization innovations, magi-tech, things he had seen long ago by much more interesting people. But what did capture his attention was his latest creation known as the Eternus Vault. A revolutionary new storage device that sustains its contents with magic to prevent rot and decay. Still heavily in the prototype state it was presented as a new container for perishables like meat or fruit. But the moment Atticus read the word Eternus his eyes glistened with the all consuming fires of gluttony that have fueled him for the last 400 years.

It's what inspired him to track down the artificer on the road with his traveling companions. He didn't take kindly to Atticus's presence or question, simply screaming in response and riding off on his steed. Quite the unprofessional response from an academic like him. Just because Atticus had melted the armor into the skin of his hired protection isn't an excuse to act like that. In response, Atticus had cast the spell of flight and had begun to soar around the outskirts of Findara, searching for the runaway inventor to learn what he knows. Unfortunately, he proved to be much more elusive than he expected, the man seeming to have vanished deep into the woodlands just to get away from the sorcerer who had taken to the air. 

It had been half an hour now as Atticus finally descended, exhaustion taking hold as he slumped against a tree, wiping the sweat from his brow. Seems he'd have to conduct his search on the ground rather than the air.

How tedious.
Megan
***"Some mage you will turn out to be, one so pathetic that they're incapable of even accessing Ursus' gifts. Give it up."***

No matter how proficient in the art of mana manipulation they've grown in their studies, a remarkable achievement for one within their teens, these bitter words persisted in Arel's mind and tainted any self-confidence they might have possessed otherwise. Existing beneath the malevolent thumb of House Presthyra, a stain on the familial repute, they were shrouded, emotionally deprived, and forced to nurture themselves. For years, they yearned for an opportunity to self-emancipate, prove their merit, and carve a path to call their own. Yet, after abandoning their home kingdom and, with it, their previous life, a newfound sense of autonomy did not fill their heart. Instead, an oppressive dread rested atop their fragile shoulders. Dread brought about by the near-debilitating uncertainty regarding their capacities. Was their mother and father correct about them? Should they complete their journey to Ardunon and attempt to live amongst the ranks of the Order of the Mage Hands? 

From deeper within the woodlands that snugly embraced the well-tread path Atticus rested near, a hooded figure emerged, diminutive in stature and without so much as the soft rustling of grass to indicate their approach. They appeared unaware of the High Elf's presence as they started towards the path before coming to a halt and nonchalantly gesturing with their hands in front of their chest. A series of cerulean blue particles, identical in hue to the clear Findaran sky, materialised seemingly from nowhere, quickly coalescing into their majestic equine mount, demonstrating to Atticus a proficiency with the magical arts. But before the Beastwalker could mount up, the conjured steed jerked its head to peer over Arel's blonde head to gaze upon the aged Elf's slender form, dawning the most lavish clothing.

***"What do you..."*** The young Shifter muttered to themselves before similarly jerking their head to meet his golden eyes.

*Lovely.*

They simply could not get a break from people, could they?
Adeline
The sorcerer doffed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. Had he been 50 years younger a search like this would have been trivial. He'd soar through the trees, dashing around each one like a leaf dancing through the air. He still could, for a forest less dense with foliage. But he didn't have such a luxury and he felt the chains of old age weighing his body down. An adversary that he couldn't simply bury beneath a landslide or eviscerate in an inferno. Whether rich or poor, young or old, king and serf, everyone is destined to die. Even the great Atticus Xelnore was destined to die. Atticus knew this well, that wasn't what made him quest for immortality so zealously.

The child of sorcerous blood baring the gifts of a divine at the tips of his fingers. The man who had been unmatched in his entire 400 years of life. The man who spent centuries trying to find a way to conquer death as he did every other problem he faced in his life. If he were to die it would be doing something spontaneous. Battling a equally powerful mage or delving into the secrets the gods hid from mortals, toppling a kingdom just for fun, it didn't matter what he'd do, who it involved or if he would even succeed he *Deserved* To go out in a blaze of glory. There is little that frightens him more than just being old and frail, lying in bed waiting to die.

That man was destined not just to die, but to wither. To wither like rotten fruit on a summers day. To be conquered by a force outside of his control. He would never let age degrade a man like him, he still had so much left to do. And what great things he could do if he had all the time in the world.

His musings on the nature of life and death were soon interrupted with a flash blue erupting from the corner of his eye. Bright and vibrant as though the very sky descended to greet the ground it eternally faced. The all too familiar burst of mana he knew all too well. Turning his head he was greeted with the sight of a young humanoid next to an equine steed which he was just able to catch materializing out of the burst of blue.

"A magus?"

He muttered under his breath in surprise. Not just that but one who was capable of summoning mighty steeds. Xelnore was no caviler but he figured riding a horse couldn't be too difficult. And what he needed most was speed. He figured his quarry couldn't have gotten too far, he knew the direction and just needed to catch up. If he had a steed of his own he'd be in quite a good state.

He tilted his head to the side, the humanoid not yet noticing as he placed his hat back on his head.

*I could always warn them that I'd melt the marrow in their bones until it bubbles if they don't provide me a steed. They don't seem too experienced so... No, for once threats won't get me very far this time unfortunately. Guess I'll just have to rely on that good nature and kindness I've heard so much about*

He pondered before deciding to make his approach. Perhaps he could convince them? A fellow magus helping their fellow magus? At the very least if they could only create one he could ride with them, just whatever gave him the speed he so desperately needed.

"Excuse me, young magi?"

He called out, the horse huffing in response to his approach. His black overcoat billowing behind him. He held his hands up, a gesture of showing he was no armed bandit or highwayman. 

"Don't worry I bare no weapons, I was actually wondering if you could aid me in a task, if you have the time"
Megan
As the aged mage strode them, Arel meticulously examined him from scalp to sole, taking in as many notable features as possible, along with potential signs of malicious intent on his part—a towering elf with nearly a foot on themselves, coupled with a slender, but healthy build. He carried himself with a swagger not too dissimilar from that of their father, complimented by his choice in fashion, which they found gaudy, to put it kindly. The similarities to their father inspired mild annoyance, but Atticus could not have known this, as the Beastwalker's opal gaze fixed itself on the tinted spectacles that obscured the Elf's. However, their stare was so unwavering that it almost appeared as if they stared through him well into the tree line. His placating gesture carried little weight as they were conscious of the numerous ways to harm one without direct contact. While not particularly enthusiastic about engaging in conversation at this moment, Arel decided to humour Atticus, but not before inclining their head forward, signalling that he would not encroach upon their personal space further than he already had.

"You don't need a weapon in order to hurt me. What do you need?" Contrary to their less-than-threatening demeanour and gentle, almost soothing tone, Arel's words were sharp and cut to the heart of the matter without the need for pleasantries that would distract from the purpose of their exchange. Almost in harmonious unison, the Shifter and their steed tilted their heads inquisitively, awaiting the response to their inquiry. What could this Elf possibly want with the total stranger they were?
Adeline
The old mage was delighted at the prospect that he was able to keep the young magus's attention. If anything he'd at best expect them to ignore him and keep riding or at worst send a bolt of fire flying his way in fears of him being a bandit magi of some sort. He did catch their mannerisms though. Spending decades thriving among high Findarian society honed his abilities in the social field of battle. The steadiness of their voice, the sharpness of their words, a clear sign that there wasn't an ounce of hesitation or worry. Not to suggest that there was any hospitality beyond the bare minimum either. It was clear that this young magus wasn't anywhere near as naive as he first expected. They didn't know if he was a threat and reacting thusly.

Still, it wasn't like he had any other options of easier people to manipulate into helping him. Time was of the essence and the moment that he learned the secrets of immortality he would never have to worry about time ever again.

"Well I've been separated from a good friend of mine you see. A scholarly chap, studied in the works of increased longevity. His horse must have gotten spooked by something, perhaps a snake or a bird that chirped a bit too loudly, rushed right on into the forest just yonder"

He gestured, stepping onto the road directly in the path of the now stopped Elf and steed.

"I've been struggling greatly to catch up with them on foot, even with my magic, but I saw you conjure a remarkable equine creature just now and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to do the same for me. Or at the very least use yours to aid me in my search so I may be reunited with the poor lad. He's never been much of a rider you see."