[Ash and Moonlight] Verse One: How Endings Start [Ash and Moonlight]

[Grey]

The Call to Prayer echoes out across High Lontarn, and the people flow through streets like a tide of vermin to the Church of the Caged Heart. Smoke-shrikes keen in the morning air, dropping small animals into the Murk, later to return and collect the suffocated bodies. Like sleeping monsters stretching awake, the factories grumble and clank, their machinery slowly coming to life. Velvet lizards huddle under eaves, and dissolve as the light touches them, returning them to the Dream.


And the four of you sit around a table in Londo Arms, a tavern on the upper west side. Summoned here by the respected academician Solyn Solaire. You were directed to this table to wait; the eminent professor Dain; the strange Niara and stranger Kaleido; and somehow the most out of place, Eli, the miner.

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

A hooded figure passing through the city streets with its cobble-like steel still damp from the overnight rain, moving at a slow but steady pace. From the shadowed safety of her cowl her eyes scoured over the architecture, her head held high in order to take in the tallest of structures. She was amazed. High Lontarn was a place unlike any she'd ever seen before. So much higher than the Tower. And the Tower was high.


But it was as much the size of the place as it was everything else. The strange twist of the street, caused by lack of planning - proof of how quickly the city expanded. Buildings of brick and iron towering on either sides of the narrow roads of the upper town. And beyond that, exposed through the occasional gaps in the architecture, the dark steaming slums of the Murk below. The bells of the cathedral calling out to the faithful. All of the different people with shadows on their faces.


And a girl rushing to meet with the one who summoned her here of all places, wearing the warm dark red robes of a wizard with woven golden runes and traveler's boots. That's how she got where she was. But the man who called on her was not among the present. There were others though, here for the same reason as she was, as she soon found out, and a most colorful company at that.


"Niara, here on the request of Solyn Solaire." was all she said when the pleasantries were exchanged. She had thrown back her hood then, to reveal the beautiful face of a young girl who couldn't have been more than twenty, if that, and a bundle of long blonde hair tied up in a knot. Her wizard robes should have hinted that the girl was a recipe for trouble.


If that didn't, well... There were always those piercing green eyes of hers, pulsing with inner fire.

 

[Sightless]

 

[Doctor Calgori]

Sing a song of smoky cities tall on creaking stilts,

​

Choking airs constrict the senses;

​

Borders: where foliage wilts, great towers have been built,

​

Forming dreadful dream defenses,

​

Come ash and moonlight meet.

​

Tormented men with evil tilt

​

Commit unchecked outraged offenses.

​

Persuaded, then, to passage here with naught but odd pretense,

​

Perhaps by promises of prestige; still, at what expense?

​

Come, ash and moonlight, meet.

​

It was said that his skin was not really skin, but a thin sheet of dirty ash, held together by the sweat of tormented workers and the blood of dead miners. His eyes, empty holes, from which unhealthy airs vented, byproduct of his strange machines. And his blood, a thick ooze devoid of life, and filled with smoke. It was said that man was not man, but a demon, the lord of smoke and darkness, ruling over the disease and the filth of his cities with an iron, coal-fired fist.


A city of men.


No, not a city. A nest. A great living, beating heart, pulsing with veins of thick, black smoke. Man's life-smoke, torn from the earth in poisoned black chunks and set to freedom by their oily flames. Did not man worship a heart? A Heart? The Heart? An evil thing, some great metal contraption bound at the heart of the city, pumping life smoke through rusty pipes into the open mouths of man. Life smoke...more accurately, death smoke. Dead life smoke. Nothing like the playful wisps of scented smoke from home, dancing about Glassy hearths, warm and comforting against the cold fog outside. Here: the smoke, the fog, and the fog, the empty husks of men, floating about on their stores of coal, moaning through parted lips with smoky breath. Even up here, where the smoke did not reach, and the wind managed to creep through man's spires, the dead still clung to man, and man, to death.


Poetically? Beautiful. Truthfully? Terrifying.


Man's cities belonged to man: neither Glassies nor their friends for knots in all directions. Trees died and bushes withered the moment the smokestacks of the city came into view. Not a knot from that, the sky quietly died away, poisoned by ever-thickening smoke. Soon after, the very wind fled for pure lands, and travelers were left only with the smoke and the much for company. In other words, no company at all. The city itself supplied no comforts; it seemed more inclined to take away then to give. Away with the fresh air, the cool breeze, and the quiet foliage, away with all nice things. In with smoke, and strange creatures, and cruel men, and Dream. And of course, away with Glassies. Just a Kaleido: Kaleido, and only Kaleido.


Kaleido lost in a city of men.


Granted, this wasn't her first adventure in the Smoky City. Only a moon ago: had she not been prowling the same streets, scouring the piles of trash for trinkets? True, that Kaleido was no stranger to the city: every few moons or so, when the winds of the wanderer blew her into town, it even became an almost-home. Almost. She knew the city, yes. But could she ever become a familiar? Man, a cruel beast, and his machines, dead from their inception: with so little life in the city, how could a Glassy ever familiarize with this place? Yet Kaleido: hardly a Glassy anymore, and more, a sad little creature, floating like smoke from shelter to shelter, never quite clear enough to see. Like smoke, and did not the city run on smoke and fog? Had not Kaleido turned to whisp long ago? Was not Kaleido dead inside? A dead Glassy, nonetheless. Glassies are not men. Glassies are alive. Men are dead. Are dead Glassies men? Are living men Glassies? Kaleido was dead, and Kaleido was not a man. Fact. Glassies do not die, they move on. Fact. Men do not live, they only think they do. Fact. Kaleido was neither man nor Glassy.


Kaleido lost in a city of men.


The Glassy sat quietly in her chair, burning a hole through the floor with her intense gaze. From what she had gathered so far, the tavern had a fairly nice floor, as far as floors went in this town. Not too dirty, not too warped, and certainly a good place to put chairs. Now if only it could tell her something about just what exactly was happening. Daring her luck, Kaleido ran her eyes once again over the three humans before her, and then, darted them back down to the floor. They were still there. All three of them. A dirty man, a robed woman, and a smoke walker. And that was the madness of the whole thing! They couldn't be there, she ought not to be there, and certainly all of them at once had no reason to gather. Three smokies and a Glassy. Ahh! Why did that have to include a Glassy? What on earth did cruel, abominable man want with a poor Glassy, much less a wanderer? Kaleido abandoned her previous poetic proceedings to squeeze herself into the tiniest possible shape on her chair, sinking deep into her thick coat and floppy hat in an attempt to remain invisible. But it hadn't worked! Somebody had found her, and what's more, had invited her all the way here, without once revealing his face! It took most business-men years to work out agreements with Glassies, their heads so full of smoke and silly maters of money and metal. Yet these men seemed to be the most focused of all men, those concerned with what comes out of the ground, to be shaped into coins and fought over. Only because of their coins did they bother with Glassies, and that was how it ought to be. But now, from the smoky depths of the great City, some strange...stranger, had reached through the murk and seized a Glassy straight from her travels and all the way to his lair! That a man would spend so much time concerning a Glassy...it could only bode...


Kaleido shuddered with ill-repressed thoughts of dark tidings. Wild instincts flew through her poetic musings: flee, wanderer, flee! The wind here is stale, and full of ill scents - find fresh pasture while the chance still remained! And yet...if her summoner had so easily found her out in the wastes of the world...would he not just as easily snatch her back up, and spirit her away to the city again? Would he not see to punish such an infraction? If a businessman could fly in an instant to red-faced rage, think of how mad this mysterious man could get! Wild visions of creeping smoke and blood-stained machines filled the Glassy's eyes, sending her into a panic. Gripping the arms of her chair, she crept as far back into her coat as possible, soon becoming only a half-obscured pair of wild, quivering eyes, darting back and forth in their brilliance: looking for any sign of the smoky man and his terrible machines.


Kaleido lost in a city of men.

 

[Contrition003]

In the Murk twilight, it was always gloomy, always shaded and dark, it was nigh impossible to know when twilight faded to the first rays of day, but for the aide of a small clockwork device. This was the day that Eli had decided he would leave this dreadful city behind once and for all. His family, his friends, anything he might have cared about was all gone now, and he was tired of living in this squalor. His plan had been set into motion the day before, had sold off most of his belongings, the unneeded knick knacks and whatever else he could either pawn off or trade for survival gear. He'd figured on one last nights sleep in his family home, and would leave at first light.


Fate had other ideas in mind it seemed.


Sometime in the night, somewhere between when he went to sleep, and the twilight of dawn there was a heavy knocking at his door that startled him from his bed. When he answered the door there was no one to be seen, just hazy fog, and a note spiked to his wood door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

​

Your presence is requested.

​

Londo Arms, first light.

​

- Solyn Solaire

​

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

​

Eli had taken the note in hand and quickly closed the door before too much of the noxious fumes could fill his little home. He sat at the table with a small oil lamp reading the simple note; he had no idea who would summon him, or why? What was so special about him? He was a nothing, another exile in the Murk. He knew the place, a little tavern up in High Lontarn proper. When Eli finally surrendered to whatever fate had decided for him, he gathered what belongings he still owned, packed it into his traveling kit, and made ready for the day, first light was a couple hours off, but he was eager to leave this place behind.


A couple hours later he found himself where he was requested, in the Londo Arms tavern, unsure of what was about to happen. "When the young woman in the red cloak approached and announced that she too was here to meet with Solaire Eli nodded towards and replied, "Aye, we bein' here for the same reason darlin' pull up a chair, I imagine it won't be much more waitin' now." Eli's voice was surprisingly soft for a mine worker, but he had the same tell tale signs all miner's had after a few years, that same cough and tendency to clear their throat too often.

 

[Sightless]

[QUOTE="Doctor Calgori]

Sing a song of smoky cities tall on creaking stilts,

​

Choking airs constrict the senses;

​

Borders: where foliage wilts, great towers have been built,

​

Forming dreadful dream defenses,

​

Come ash and moonlight meet.

​

Tormented men with evil tilt

​

Commit unchecked outraged offenses.

​

Persuaded, then, to passage here with naught but odd pretense,

​

Perhaps by promises of prestige; still, at what expense?

​

Come, ash and moonlight, meet.

​

It was said that his skin was not really skin, but a thin sheet of dirty ash, held together by the sweat of tormented workers and the blood of dead miners. His eyes, empty holes, from which unhealthy airs vented, byproduct of his strange machines. And his blood, a thick ooze devoid of life, and filled with smoke. It was said that man was not man, but a demon, the lord of smoke and darkness, ruling over the disease and the filth of his cities with an iron, coal-fired fist.


A city of men.


No, not a city. A nest. A great living, beating heart, pulsing with veins of thick, black smoke. Man's life-smoke, torn from the earth in poisoned black chunks and set to freedom by their oily flames. Did not man worship a heart? A Heart? The Heart? An evil thing, some great metal contraption bound at the heart of the city, pumping life smoke through rusty pipes into the open mouths of man. Life smoke...more accurately, death smoke. Dead life smoke. Nothing like the playful wisps of scented smoke from home, dancing about Glassy hearths, warm and comforting against the cold fog outside. Here: the smoke, the fog, and the fog, the empty husks of men, floating about on their stores of coal, moaning through parted lips with smoky breath. Even up here, where the smoke did not reach, and the wind managed to creep through man's spires, the dead still clung to man, and man, to death.


Poetically? Beautiful. Truthfully? Terrifying.


Man's cities belonged to man: neither Glassies nor their friends for knots in all directions. Trees died and bushes withered the moment the smokestacks of the city came into view. Not a knot from that, the sky quietly died away, poisoned by ever-thickening smoke. Soon after, the very wind fled for pure lands, and travelers were left only with the smoke and the much for company. In other words, no company at all. The city itself supplied no comforts; it seemed more inclined to take away then to give. Away with the fresh air, the cool breeze, and the quiet foliage, away with all nice things. In with smoke, and strange creatures, and cruel men, and Dream. And of course, away with Glassies. Just a Kaleido: Kaleido, and only Kaleido.


Kaleido lost in a city of men.


Granted, this wasn't her first adventure in the Smoky City. Only a moon ago: had she not been prowling the same streets, scouring the piles of trash for trinkets? True, that Kaleido was no stranger to the city: every few moons or so, when the winds of the wanderer blew her into town, it even became an almost-home. Almost. She knew the city, yes. But could she ever become a familiar? Man, a cruel beast, and his machines, dead from their inception: with so little life in the city, how could a Glassy ever familiarize with this place? Yet Kaleido: hardly a Glassy anymore, and more, a sad little creature, floating like smoke from shelter to shelter, never quite clear enough to see. Like smoke, and did not the city run on smoke and fog? Had not Kaleido turned to whisp long ago? Was not Kaleido dead inside? A dead Glassy, nonetheless. Glassies are not men. Glassies are alive. Men are dead. Are dead Glassies men? Are living men Glassies? Kaleido was dead, and Kaleido was not a man. Fact. Glassies do not die, they move on. Fact. Men do not live, they only think they do. Fact. Kaleido was neither man nor Glassy.


Kaleido lost in a city of men.


The Glassy sat quietly in her chair, burning a hole through the floor with her intense gaze. From what she had gathered so far, the tavern had a fairly nice floor, as far as floors went in this town. Not too dirty, not too warped, and certainly a good place to put chairs. Now if only it could tell her something about just what exactly was happening. Daring her luck, Kaleido ran her eyes once again over the three humans before her, and then, darted them back down to the floor. They were still there. All three of them. A dirty man, a robed woman, and a smoke walker. And that was the madness of the whole thing! They couldn't be there, she ought not to be there, and certainly all of them at once had no reason to gather. Three smokies and a Glassy. Ahh! Why did that have to include a Glassy? What on earth did cruel, abominable man want with a poor Glassy, much less a wanderer? Kaleido abandoned her previous poetic proceedings to squeeze herself into the tiniest possible shape on her chair, sinking deep into her thick coat and floppy hat in an attempt to remain invisible. But it hadn't worked! Somebody had found her, and what's more, had invited her all the way here, without once revealing his face! It took most business-men years to work out agreements with Glassies, their heads so full of smoke and silly maters of money and metal. Yet these men seemed to be the most focused of all men, those concerned with what comes out of the ground, to be shaped into coins and fought over. Only because of their coins did they bother with Glassies, and that was how it ought to be. But now, from the smoky depths of the great City, some strange...stranger, had reached through the murk and seized a Glassy straight from her travels and all the way to his lair! That a man would spend so much time concerning a Glassy...it could only bode...


Kaleido shuddered with ill-repressed thoughts of dark tidings. Wild instincts flew through her poetic musings: flee, wanderer, flee! The wind here is stale, and full of ill scents - find fresh pasture while the chance still remained! And yet...if her summoner had so easily found her out in the wastes of the world...would he not just as easily snatch her back up, and spirit her away to the city again? Would he not see to punish such an infraction? If a businessman could fly in an instant to red-faced rage, think of how mad this mysterious man could get! Wild visions of creeping smoke and blood-stained machines filled the Glassy's eyes, sending her into a panic. Gripping the arms of her chair, she crept as far back into her coat as possible, soon becoming only a half-obscured pair of wild, quivering eyes, darting back and forth in their brilliance: looking for any sign of the smoky man and his terrible machines.


Kaleido lost in a city of men.

[/QUOTE]
The nature of existence is in part regularity, the fact that even though things seem discordant and chaotic, they all follow regularly discernable patterns. It goes beyond the systematic categorization and self-directed patterns of civilization, it is part of life. In that part, there is the need for symbols, those things that represent the ideals of the civilization to serve as becons to the masses and declared with open and unwavering declarations, ‘this is what we believe.’ He professor Dain in many ways was a symbol. A body wrapt round in metal and wire, a heart and mind within a machine. The merging of man with technology, the overcoming of realities impediments with the use of tools & science. Yet, he was a symbol for something else entirely. The most abundant element was that his walker was not powered by the more crude engines of coal and steam, not the production of practical physics driveng by the boiling of water, but something more refined, something more clean. This iron skin, this body of iron bones & wire, had no exost; as it needed none. This form of constructed by human hands was powered as the natural body was run, threw the braking down of organic matter into an element more holesome than those engines that surrounded him each day. It was reflected in it’s namesake, ‘natural gas’. It was a component of the regular pattern. It was a small step for the whole of humanity, a step upon a journey, which if taken correctly, would lead to a higher order of civilization. It was in this sign that he, Professor Dain shock his fist, unseen, at the civilization in which he found himself. It was part of his war, his war for life. What is life?





What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a oxen in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.





Even in those patterns that allude our sensibility, this element is there. So even if the Professor Dain could not see at the moment for the pattern for the natural order of reasons that concluded with his presence being required, he knew within the core of his being that there was in them the single element of life. It was all part of an ancient regularity. It was clear in the forms around him, those that reflected the character of the city, and those that did not. These beings were more than the individuals that they were aware of; they were part of a gestalt, one that represented the city in those that were it’s citizens, and those that were not, equally. The use of a negative identifier being just as useful as a positive one. Neither though has more power than the other, not on the individual, not upon the group, not upon civilization. They were all necessary for this.





To the uninitiated one might wonder if the professor was a mortal man. With gas mask firmly in place, hood up, and the rest, he looked like a mechanicl golum. As impersonal as a gargoyle of iron. Still, one had to admit, the device moved with far less noise than might be expected. It was not until the mechanical creature stopped before the table with the essambled group that truth of it’s nature was in part revealed. The professor reached up and removed his gas mask, and a very human face gazed out at those present.





It was a gaunt face, the skin almost taunt over the prenounced cheekbones, the sharp hawkish nose, the narrow chin, the thin layer of copper colored hair. It all spoke of an early life of harshness that had tempered the body until all unnecessary elements had been cast off. There was all this, but there were also the eyes, a pair of lantern like amber pools, whose mental energy could not seemed to be fully contained in the skull in which they were attached to. Those calmly calculating, benevolent orbes reviewed all there, before their owner spoke.





“Good day to you all, or at least I hope it is so, even if it is early to judge the rightfulness of all this.”





It was a deep resonant voice, behind those words, one that held power, even if the volume behind it was low enough to not grate on the ear. The affect was dramatic, without being overly theatrical.





“For the sake of plesentries,” the fellow continued, “allow me to introduce myself, as such activities might be fruitful for future purposes, I am Mr. Elijah Dain.”





The barest of wirs can be heard, as the speaker makes a short bow.





“Any point of the use of my name will be sufficient, simply use what parts seems most comfortable for you. I wish you to be at ease with me in all our dealings, at least as much as can be possible, in spite of my unusal appearance.”





His voice was as steady as a carpenters plain, his arm movements as fluid as any as he gestured to himself, with his last comment, to emphasize his point.


(readers note, i'm having some trouble, so this will

 

[Contrition003]

The look on young Eli's face was of equal parts bemusement and awe when the professor approached the table and made his introductions, never before had the young miner seen such a fusing of technology to man. It was both incredible, and perhaps a little shocking to first witness, "So..." Eli began, looking around the table at the now assembled group pointing to each in turn, "Glassy... Mechanical Man... and Mage?..." He said slightly unsure, but continued anyway pointing to himself next "And a Miner? Well don't I just feel all kinds of outta place."

 

[Sightless]

“A miner you say?”


The professor glanced the man’s way, with a single eye, as a light house searches through the darkness of the night, guiding ships to a safe birth. That lone eye did not move, but rather bore into the miner with all the intensity of a waterdrill, pealing of the layers of form as keenly as the said device strips off dirt and rock. It was an assessing, analyzing, determining gaze, but not an unfriendly one. The man machine made a slight beconing gesture with his hand, and a table lass appeared at his sholder.


“tea if you would for all round, and some of those strawberry scones that I smell fresh from the ovens if you would, put it on my tab, I’ll pay in the evening.”


He was a regular here of a fasion, if city meetings among the third circle once a month could be called that, which they were. He waited for the lass to skip off, brown curls bouncing, before he spoke again.


“A miner, a noble profession with a considerable assortment of skills. Many of the acadmy graduates have both come from and returned to such a calling. Yet, despite all the social commentary piled upon the subject, I cannot help but wonder if those that labor so, are not in ways more noble of heart than many a civil servent who is exalted for his activities, which are not half that of those that delve in the earth.”


Dain shakes his head for a moment, if he was sharring some discussion of great import with those assembled, perhaps he was.


“I shall not deny to you all, I lack any gift of prophecy, I know not the why for our being so gathered, nor what shall come of it. Our talents are varied, that is sure, still to say which is the more valuable of the one over the other, is to acclaim one part of the body over the other, as if all do not serve some vital function. Is this not so?”


The lone eye finally left it’s examination of his fellow, and both glanced round the table.


“Ah, here comes that tea.”

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

Niara accepted the tea gladly with a simple thank-you to Mr. Dain. It solved her doubts about whether she had enough gold on her to afford anything. She didn't know how expensive High Lontarn could be, and it was prudent not to create any unnecessary expenses. But the man intrigued her with his figure. All that iron, metal wire, whirring of cogs... A man of metal. More like a thing than a living being, at first glance, but he was perfectly human underneath all that it seemed. And he spoke in a fancy manner. It reminded her of the wizards back home.


His face looked weathered, and the girl kept asking herself what had happened to him. But she couldn't just ask him that directly. Instead, she said something else.


"So... you live in High Lontarn, Mr. Dain?" she asked, then proceeded to sip her tea.

 

[Sightless]

He nodded in response to her thanks, “a proper host always ensures the comforts of his guests, and if no host is present, than roll up your sleeves and take care of it yourself. That’s what my mother used to say.” He always likes an individual that had an understanding of manners, those simple gems that always improved upon the user. He then studiously put a single spoon of honey into his tea and stirred a thoughtful expression spreading across his visage. His arms moved soundlessly, unlike his waste, the cables flowing back & forth with all the ease of well stretched muscles. His answer to her question though, was perhaps as provocative as the machine in which framed his mortal form.


“Oh, I do now, right over the public book repository. I am responsible for overseeing it and the public academy.”


The off handed way, in which he gave it, as though it was nothing at all, and after a fashion it was. Still it raised several distinct questions in of itself, where he had resided before, and how he obtained such a lofty public post, and why he thought so little of it, as evident in his tone. Obviously, his form was not conducive to that of a man born to luxury

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

The girl concluded he must mean the good part of town. Wealthy. Her green eyes sparked at the mention of an academy.


"You're a professor, then?" she inquired further, unable to mask her curiosity. Dain's otherworldly appearance fell into second plan at the moment. She quickly glanced across the other people at the table. They seemed to be listening. Even the shady woman with her coat drawn around her as if she was trying to disappear in it.

 

[Sightless]

It was a simple enough question, but one that when responded to, would instantly require further explanation and clarification, so that the wrong empression, which usually formed from the response, from occurring. It was one of the banes of his profession and the lack of denotation from one title to another.


“Yes, I am what you would call a professor, but I don’t teach at the university. I oversee the public school for young boys and girls. Some places refer to it as a general school, it’s more than simply a grammer school, as we teach more than the three Rs. We have young children as well as lads and lasses in our halls, which teaches all the way up to university entrence, or past the first year of basic apprenticeship. Some students prepare for both, just in case they can’t pass the university entrence examination, or because they know they’ll need a trade while going through the university. As I’ve said, some of them return to being miners, with a better grasp of mathamatics, pressure, and basic mechanics than they had before they started taking classes. I am a bit pleased to say that we do have our own dorms for those that wish to live on the primaces, although many return home after classes. We strive to deliver the highest degree of excellence, while still maintaining some level of flexability, as many of the students come from working class families. I don’t want education to become another burden on the family after all.”


A shadow passes over his face for just a moment, at the thought how some university men, his peers, had laughed when he had once said this last, as though they thought it was the funnest thing in the world. They of course didn’t know what it was to live among the working classes; he swore he’d never forget it.


“The library position was supposed to be temporary, the city needed someone to fill it, when the previous holder died,” hung himself in his basement, “and I stepted in.”


‘so far so good, they’ve not asked anything really personal yet.’

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

The girl smiled as if content with the reply she got. But having no further interest in the matter, she tried changing the topic to something more... close at hand.


"Professor Dain," she began, taking to calling him that, "Do you happen to know who Solyn Solaire is?" Her voice was pleasant and calm though edged with curiosity. She sat there holding her half empty cup of tea with both hands, not paying any heed to other people in the tavern.

 

[Sightless]

The girl smiled as if content with the reply she got. But having no further interest in the matter, she tried changing the topic to something more... close at hand.
"Professor Dain," she began, taking to calling him that, "Do you happen to know who Solyn Solaire is?" Her voice was pleasant and calm though edged with curiosity. She sat there holding her half empty cup of tea with both hands, not paying any heed to other people in the tavern.

 

[Sightless]

Some women are considered attractive due to physical characteristics alone, from the summitry of face, hip structure, etc; others are considered lovely due to social characteristics, maintaining a regal baring; while still others maintain their beauty through the the exercise of a gentle empathetic nature. Some possessed all three; Solyn Solaire was one, or at least as far as he knew she was. All this inspite of her detractors and she had quite a few.


“Mrs. Solyn Solaire is one I must admit I only have a passing acquaintanceship with and no more. I shall at least impart what I know, from what others have imparted, which should be taken with a gram of salt, and wht I know from my own personal observations. “ He takes a sip of tea, before continuing, “ others say that she is an excentric woman that delves in poorly understood antiquanted ideas that no censable individual has any right dealing with.” He smiles and nods, a suitle sign that he finds it all rubbish, and continues, “I shall admit, to many she might seem excentric, but that is only from the fact that what she deals with is not something that can be easily classified or categorized. While our topics diverge in the extreme, I dealing with mechanics and the like, she is a very capable woman, with a keen intellect. “


He in fact only had direct dealings with her durning the meetings, where they had agreed more on policies discussed, than disagreed. Some thought that odd, as the two seemed on the face of it, radically different.


“I would offer to arrange a meeting, but obviously, she has arranged one for us.” He smiles, and takes another sip of tea, “she is usually very punctual, so it shouldn’t be too long, more tea?”

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

"Interesting." replied the girl. Then, noticing her cup to be empty, she added: "And yes, please."


So Solaire was a woman. Niara had no idea why she pictured a man. As for the other people at the table, no one seemed too eager to discuss matters, and no one asked Niara anything so she remained silent for now. She turned her head left and stared at the window, letting rays of light brighten her green eyes. There was no hint of her thoughts in her expression, though she did look a bit sad.

 

[Grey]

Presently a small bell rings; the door being opened. "Greetings all," a feminine voice calls cheerily, followed by the effulgent stride of Solyn Solaire.


"Greetings," she smiles brightly, and sits with you. She looks older than you expected, her hair iron-gray - but her back is straight and her features are beautiful like a good blade is beautiful. Simple, lovely, but with the uneasy feeling this could cut you if mishandled.


"I'm so glad to see you all made it. I'll admit, I thought I might be here alone..." She leans towards Kaleido with a conspiratorial wink. "A brave thing you've done, my Glassy friend."

 

[Sightless]

"What, and mis what ever's in store, Perish the thought."


Was all Dain said to that, calmly quietly, soothingly.


"Tea?"


Always the host, or server, that's one thing he was good at. It felt right to him, and so he feel into that roll with ease. He tried to ignore the fact that his mind couldn't stop running 'I'm down at the bottom of the well' ever since he got there. Perhaps his subconchus knew more about this event than he care to admit.

 

[Contrition003]

"Aye I'll admit to you ma'am, had your messenger come a few hours later, you would have missed me, I'd already had myself plans of gettin' to bein' far, far away from this place." Eli downed his mugful of tea in a gulp, looked at the cup a moment a shrugged, 'this is what they drink up here?' he thought. "But seein' as how I'd nothin' better to do... here I be." Eli placed the mug back down on the table, then looked up at the elegant Mrs. Solaire. "So, if you don't be mindin' my frankness, why have you gathered us here?"

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

She did look a bit older than pictured. But she looked fine otherwise, and she was finally here. The girl directed her attention to the grey-haired woman and slightly bowed her head. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Solyn Solaire." she said respectfully. "I am Niara, the sorceress."


The miner already posed the main question, so she said nothing else.

 

[Grey]

Solyn seems amused by Eli's manner, and nodding a greeting to Niara replies;


"Have any of you been beyond the city walls much? I expect two of you have. You'll know that we know very little about what goes on beyond High Lontarn. I intend to change that, by mapping the lands and cataloging the life. I chose you because I thought you'd be ideal assistance in this task."

 

[Wolf Rawrrr]

"I've spent my entire life beyond these walls." said Niara.


So this is what this was about. An explorer's undertaking. Sounds interesting.


"You can count on me." she said, smiling. Not even bothering to ask what's in it for them. Her desire to sate her general curiosity coupled with the motivation to prove herself wouldn't let her consider things. "I know the land to the southeast fairly well, at least up to Darkvale from where I hail." For the next several moments she studied the expressions of her soon-to-be fellow adventurers. In her experience, people tended to react differently upon the mention of Darkvale - disbelief, fear, suspicions, or nothing at all. Few were ever happy at it.


It wasn't just the wizards of the Tower and their ill reputation. Darkvale was home to many beasts, magical or not, and quite a dangerous place especially at night. Everyone who heard of the place knew that much at least.

 

[Sightless]

Mountains, rocks, minerals, terrestrial formations, these were all due to the same forces, pressure and time. This mechanism is not exclusive to geological matters however, human beings can be shaped and altered through similar process, although the pressure is more often psychological and not gravitational in scope. Thus it was that Elijah Dain had been preparing for this possible eventuality for some time. The fact that it was a matter of occasional discussion, both between the pair and among the Council helped considerably in preparation.


there were many times over the years when the two of them had agreed on particular points. She had agreed with his push for discovering plants that could decrease the carbon dioxide levels down below; in the push to move more of those plants into the city; in the push to begin to switch out steam based power to natural gas. In every case, in every proposal, there had been resistance, stiff opposition to any alteration that might in some way alter the status quo. He had not been the only one to encounter such antagonism. She too had encountered considerable hostility to many of her proposals, including the one that was now being stated to the group at large. He could remember stating that the best way to get her maping proposal supported by the Councils, was to mentione that he would be going on the expedition. She had treated it as a joke at the time. A part of him wondered how long it had taken her to realize that he had been serious. Perhaps that’s why he had already ordered his affairs, ordained Mailene as the overseer at the Academy & made sure that Mr. Moar was up to the task of running the library in his absence. He had gathered supplies, consulted incoming and outgoing merchants, and even made short two and three day adventures outside the city, practicing the skills he’d need for a long journey. There had been other actions taken as well, which aided in his preparation for this, he well knew. All he said was,


“You know I had to travel down to White Valley to Ordain their grammer teacher there, that’s a three day treck southeast of here. That’s as far as I’ve gone there abouts, although that particular trip was not the first, nor the last time I’ve done it.”


White Valley was an agricultural community, that’s a fancy way of calling it a farming village, whose output helped to feed the city.

 

[Contrition003]

"I've lived in the Murk for me whole life... a couple visits to the upper city a few times a year, and a few times me an' my friends ventured out past the walls just to have a look see. Spent a night in the ol' forest once...didn't sleep a wink that one I be tellin' ya. But as I've already said, me plans were already to be gone from this place, if your job is to be takin' me away from Lontarn, then I guess I be acceptin' your offer..." Eli looks around the table, then tilts his head as he looks back to Solyn, "Just as a curiousness... is there to be any sort of pay for this job?"

 

[Sightless]

That was an excellent question, Elijah didn’t want to ask it, because it would be improper for him to do so. If the Council was backing this endeavor, than the answer was yes. If not, then it would be up to other parties to cover the bill. He could assist in provisions, but not in compensation, as that would be well above his means. It would be fair enough to state so, within the bounds of good manners and all.


“I can ensure that the part is more than adiquitly equipped, but lack the means of fair compensation, I assume that the powers at be have given their nod to this proposal, yes?”


Even if the answer was no, it was an able saidway into matters. At least as an able as one as he could give under the circumstances. The party consisted of four, he had considered that number there abouts when planning. He just wished he knew more about the most silent member of their party.