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[Rolzup]

The Importance of Being Burne

Not everyone, I realize, is familiar with the Great Art. Their lives are poorer for this lack, and I feel pity for their loss, rather than scorn for their shameful ignorance.

Alchemy, you see, is the art or transcendence. The ultimate goal of alchemy, and of every reputable alchemist, is to transcend the limits of mortal clay and ascend to a higher state of being. Personally, I plan to do this through the medium of fire. The physical effects of even a normal fire are plainly transcendent, after all. Base matter is transformed into the divine energy of heat and light.

When -- not if! -- I discover the method to ignite my own soul in such a manner, I will truly have mastered the greatest Art of all.

In the meantime, I must content myself with the more mundane pleasures of the pyrotechnic arts. Is there anything more beautiful than a white-hot flame? I rather think not.

THIS GOES A LONG WAY TOWARDS EXPLAINING WHY BURNE IS STILL SINGLE.

And this brings me to Sanjuro Roeh. There are, sadly, alchemists who choose to debase the Art by practicing their craft for mere coin. Roeh, by all available evidence, was one such individual. What's more, he was a man willing to defy even the most basic laws of morality in pursuit of profit.

To actually dispatch thugs with the intent of killing a helpless giant and extracting his heart? Monstrous.

A true alchemist would face said giant, defeat him in single combat, and then carve out the still-beating heart with his own two hands. If a man is not willing to get his own hands dirty, he's no alchemist at all.

(Found objects are another thing entirely, I should add. If no one is actually making use of a given organ, it's free for the taking.)

And so, armed solely with my own righteous indignation...

AND A CROSSBOW, AND A HALBERD, AND A BADLY MADE SWORD, AND MAGIC, AND THREE BURLY COMPANIONS.

...I set out to confront Sanjuro Roeh. His shop was located on the edge of Little Ajakhan, near the border of the Blue Light District . On our way there, we passed by the dye-works of this Han Oi Xian fellow, and took a moment to observe the place.

It had been a monastery at some point in the past, but now it was simply a rundown building with a rundown tower, surrounded by a rundown wall. A pair of tall statues stood in the courtyard, one depicting the god Kruetzel, and the other the pirate goddess Pentamoor. Little did we know what evil those statues portended....

A crowd was gathering outside the gates, in anticipation of the sale of the newest Hue-Wu charm. Xian's practice, we had learned, was to sell a new color of scarf each week; fashion and superstition both demanded the purchase of is most recent creation.

I made a mental note of the building's structural weaknesses (siege engineering being one of my many areas of expertise), and we continued on to our true goal.

UNLESS STEPPING ON ANT-HILLS COUNTS, BURNE IS NOT IN ANY WAY QUALIFIED AS A SEIGE ENGINEER.

Narayan is, sadly, prone to harboring the worst examples of the criminal element. The Room Rouge Players -- duelists, actors, lawyers -- were a particularly foul example.

(Note that I said "were". I soon put an end to the Players, with some minor aid from my companions. But this was still some weeks in the future.)

What business they had with Sanjuro Roeh, I could not imagine. But nevertheless, as we pounded upon the man's door, there they were. Not all of them, but enough to provide an interesting diversion. They had a wagon, which contained a tarpaulin, which in turn covered something large and wet.

This bore further investigation.

Our polite inquiries were rebuffed, and matters grew only more tense when Roeh himself, accompanied by a Rukh-Kazah bodyguard, finally made his appearance. I firmly denounced him before the gathered crowd, and he blanched in obvious terror.

The Room Rouge Players, amusingly enough, chose to threaten us with violence. I responded with a raised eyebrow, and three simple words: "I am Burne." The eyebrow alone was likely inducement enough for them to flee, but at my words they took to their heels without delay.

ACTUALLY, KENJI NEARLY GUTTED ONE OF THEM, AND THE REMAINING PLAYERS DRAGGED THE UNFORTUNATE VICTIM OFF. NOBODY EVEN LOOKED IN BURNE'S DIRECTION. FEW PEOPLE DO, UNLESS THEY HAVE TO.

Roeh, obviously terrified, surrendered the wagon and its contents to me, and we retired in triumph.

MORE IRRITATED THAN TERRIFIED, ACTUALLY. THAT RUKH-KAZAH WAS REALLY, REALLY BIG.

The contents of the wagon took even myself, well known for my intuitive prowess, by surprise. A reptilian creature, the size and general shape of a man, obviously well-adapted to aquatic life. Credulous sailors know these beasts as "Sea Devils", while I quickly identified the beast by its proper name: that of "Kuo-Toa".

Not surprisingly, considering his barbarous origins, this poor beast was not blessed with knowledge of any civilized tongue. We sought out magical assistance to provide a translation, and purchased a formulation from a nearby temple for this purpose.

Erebus preserve me, the creature gave its name as "Blub-Blub". Possibly the aquatic equivalent of "Smith"; who am I to say? I've no love for the water, as it is far too damp and fire-resistant an environment for my liking.

But never mind its absurd cognomen. The Kuo-Toa had a fascinating tale to tell, and one with obvious bearing upon our own situation.

He and a tribe of his people had been captured, by persons unknown, and brought to CITY from their home territories. As they were not citizens, they were considered to have a status equivalent to that of pets, and could be brought and sold without legal impairment.

They had, in fact, been sold...to one Han Oi Xian. No mere dyer, Xian was actually a practitioner of some debased foreign sorcery. He made use of certain techniques, all of them most unpleasant, to cause the Kuo-Toa to release fluids that he employed in his dyes. The very dyes that he used for his famous Hue-Wu charms, in point of fact.

This "Blub-Blub" had managed to make his escape by literally transforming into a priest, by a mechanism that I do not pretend to understand. It involved the secretion of some form of holy icon, a process that I chose not to investigate. Matters theological are of little interest to me, frankly, and mucous-based religion is even less appealing than the usual sort.

In any case, he had not remained free for long. The waters of Narayan are not hospitable to foreign swimmers, and he was soon taken into custody by the Room Rouge Players. And then, of course, I saved him.

YES. BURNE SAVED HIM. THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.

Waving off his gratitude, I pressed him for further details. He revealed that his people were imprisoned within the tower that adjoined Han Oi Xian's dye works, the lowest level of which was flooded. Furthermore, a human had been imprisoned with them who, by his description, could only be the missing King Daikon.

A full-scale frontal assault upon Xian's lair was clearly the only answer. Alas, even the plans of a master tactician like myself can be foiled by the vagaries of chance....