Chronicles of the Orrery

[Naathez]

Prelude​

All their eyes.
She feels all their eyes on her, as she lets the hood fall around her neck and strides, slowly, purposefully, through the study room. Her booted feet softly clacking at every step on the marble floor, her cloak shifting at every movement, she takes her time.
"Let them look", she's thinking. "Let them know I did it."

Room after room she walks. The ceiling-high shelves, filled to the brim with books, muffle the impatient noise of her uncharacteristically undisciplined stride towards her goal. The smell of musty parchment is so well known to her nostrils, so commonplace in the Library, that she takes no notice as she speeds across the impressive collected knowledge.

Finally she reaches the door. Taking a moment to regain her composure, she straightens her robe, and softly knocks.

"Come in", says the soft-spoken voice she has heard countless times.

As she slowly walks inside the room, closing the door behind her, his eyes never leave the large tome on his bookrest. As so many times before, and with unchanged (and barely hidden) impatience, she quietly stands in a corner of the small study, waiting for his attention.

Finally he lifts his face from the yellowing pages, and his grey eyes shift their gaze to hers. His visage is serene, almost stern, as he asks "Has it been found?"

Silently she uncovers a smaller tome from the folds of her robe. The leather binding is almost pristine, and barely creaks as she respectfully hands him the book. She allows herself a small smile of satisfaction, seeing his fingers caress the book, tracing the sigil embossed on its cover.

"Gaia." he states. "Where was it?"

Her heart almost bursts with emotion at recalling the countless times she dreamt of this moment. "Seventy-eight floors below. Over the Second Bestiaries of Alentur. And..." she hesitates.

His look is just slightly amazed, his eyes growing a fraction wider as he nods at her.

"...and beyond the Blue." she concludes.

And finally, he closes his eyes and smiles.

"It is the one we were looking for", he repeats a couple times. "Sit here, and read it to me. The disturbance has greatly worried the Watchers. Perhaps" here he hands her the book "we shall find its causes in here."

Her long fingers slowly open the cover even before she has fully seated at his desk. Her heartbeat completely out of control, she clears her throat.

And she begins reading.

 

[Naathez]

Introduction - Livia Cecilia Metella

The sea breeze is more than cool on Livia Cecilia Metella's face as she leans over the rail on the ship's deck. There... that's Dresd. Her goal... or her starting point, she thinks with a little smile. The Phoenikan sailors are quickly working all around her and cheering - land's close, and so is some well-deserved rest. Bus as she wraps her cloak around herself tighter, shivering, Livia's thoughts are not of rest. Quite the opposite, after weeks on the ship, silently waiting, she'll finally begin her work as the first diplomat from Lian.


"More than a diplomat, Livia, you'll be an observer. The Senate has quite grudgingly accepted our plan of opening embassies in other countries... starting with Verlund. But they want... reconnaissance, so to speak, before an official act like the opening of a formal Embassy." Her father's voice had been filled both with pride and with concern. "Those Northerners are ...barbarians. Not to mention... not to mention The Woods, on their south border. Those, I believe I have no need to advise you to avoid if at all possible."


"The Woods", Livia had thought. No Lianer would EVER call them by their true name, would ever call them "Oiralassie". "You say we look like the "Elves" in your legends? Oh, they have pointed ears too? How queer." was the proper reply any member of the bold Republic of Lian would give to anyone mentioning the resemblance. And right after that, the Lianer would proceed to point out the differences, their lifespans being long, yes, but surely not lasting thousands of years as in the legends regarding "Elves", not to mention their living in well built, orderly, bustling cities and not in dark, damp woods. Coincidence, coincidence of no importance, and in any case better left alone.


"You will leave tonight, on a ship which is in port already. Yes, there has been a change of plans" her father had continued, lifting his palm in anticipation of her surprised questions. "Here, take this tube. You'll read the scroll within as soon as you are safe in Dresd. It contains your orders. May the Lares aid you in your journey, Livia."


"May they indeed, father" she mutters, looking around. The best advice the sailors she asked regarding inns and taverns have been able to give was "Well, the Two-handled Mug is quite good for a lady. Even has no rats!" to which another sailor replied "They ran outta rats? Wonder what they'll cook now, I do".
The ensuing general laughter was quite disturbing, but she managed to find someone who gave her broad directions to the city's centre. There she imagined she might find a respectable inn, or at least one where people washed more often than once... in a lifetime? and a safe place where to read and then destroy her orders.

"But I definitely should NOT have gone right" she mutters. Or at least, the wall in front of her, closing the narrow alley, stacked with refuse , seems to suggest so. "I'll turn back and see if i can get back to the decumanus... er, the main avenue." she thinks.

But when she spins around, already growing quite tired with this city of barbarians and its cold, and its narrow alleys, and its smell, and its steepled ridiculous roofs, the four eyes staring at her suggest, even more strongly than the wall, that she has indeed taken a very, very wrong turn.

 

[Naathez]

Introduction - Viktor of the Clenchfist

Why are they making all this noise?

Viktor of the Clenchfist sits up, immediately awake, his eyes blinking a little as he tries to see in the dark.

As he hurries out of the ship's hold, the merry laughing of the sailors all around him fills his ears. As he looks around to try and divine the source of such merry, one of the Phoenikan slaps him on the back with a broad smile. "Can you see that?"

"Can you see that?" The only light, and heat, were coming from the forge, as his father's hammer hit blow after careful blow on the red-hot rod of metal. "Can you see how it must be hit?"

Viktor was looking intently as he manned the bellows. "Yes, Father, I think I understand now." he'd said with a vigorous nod. Father's smile was more than enough reward for his toil, his time, his effort. Father knew of steel. And in the Hisjord Islands, among the proud Viknij, every warrior had his due respect, but none more than he who bent metal into blades.
"You are smart, Victor. As smart as you are strong. I am proud to have you for a - Listen!"

Viktor's ears had been hearing nothing but the rhytmical, mesmerizing beating of metal on hot metal. But now he could hear.

He could hear the screams.

Grabbing his axe, he'd run out after Father, who had already grasped his own large sword and was charging with a bellowing scream. The painted talons on the attackers's shields, the black feathers on their armbands, it all swirled around him as he sprinted for another small group of assailants, crowded around another house.

"Ravens! No honor, no skill, no blood!" he kept screaming as his massive axe hacked an arm, clanged on a breastplate, wrested against a club.
They'd surrounded him. And they may be cowards, and sackers; but they were too many... too many. He'd fought, and he'd fought well, and there had been no shame for him that night, when the last surviving Ravens had fled on their longboat, among the jeers and challenges of the Clenchfist. No shame for him. And none for his father.

He lit Father's pyre the following day, while the village watched and praised his bravery and skill. And that had been all. For a man need not fear his end, only HOW he ends. But first, he'd thought, he had to be a man. And as he planted Father's sword in the large rock (What incredible steel! Had pierced the rock for half its length, and now stood straight, planted like a deadly tree, on the mountaintop), he'd known.

He must leave, earn a name. So that Viktor of the Clenchfist could be his own man, and no more his Father's son.

"Are you all right, Northerner?" The sailor looks amused at his dreamy gaze, as he snaps back to the present. "I asked, Can you see that? That's Dresd! We got here in just ten days, like I'd told you! Ain't this the swiftest piece of ship you've ever seen? Ain't it? Wasn't it worth your gold to get a ride like this?"

Viktor thanks him, if a little less enthusiastically. He knows little of that place, what little he's heard back at the village from men who've been mercenaries in Verlund. And most of that little was "It's hard to explain... you should see."

"Well", he thinks, with a small frown. "I'm about to see."

 

[Black Bard]

Great intro, Naathez!!!
I hope you plan for an update soon!!!

 

[Naathez]

Introduction - Lothar Von Wulfe

"...and stir slowly, while keeping above the flame..."

The liquid in the glass alembic shifts slowly from its clear colour to a deepening red. Lothar's eyes widen, slightly alarmed, but he keeps stirring. "Please, please don't explode this time." he mutters. The mixture seems to respect his wishes as he settles the alembic down on a small pedestal and starts observing the subtle changes in color.
He notices the knocking at the door after enough noise has been made to alarm the whole castle. His eyes don't even move. "Yes?"
"Mein Furst Von Wulfe? Are you there? At last! I've been looking for you all over, Herr! I looked in your room but you weren't there..."

"And I better not" Lothar thinks. "After the last experiment blew up half the corridor and burned the tapestries to cinders, father's made it clear I better 'play' here in Meister Otto's quarters."

"So I went out and looked for your fencing instructor, since it was about time for your lesson, but he told me you hadn't shown up... oh, and he also added he was leaving... it's the third one this year, mein Herr..."

Lothar visibly winces. "Father's sure not to appreciate THAT... but who cares about three feet of sharpened metal when one has THIS" -and here he proudly allows himself a longing look at the special crossbow he built, sitting on the shelf, as he slowly stand up, walking to the door.

"and then I thought 'Perhaps Herr Lothar might be in Meister Otto's quarters! So I hurried here and in fact -"

The door opens abruptly. Still glancing at the alembic every few seconds, Lothar manages to smile as he asks "WHY are you looking for me?"

The servant shifts uneasily as he hands him a sealed scroll. A letter from the Academy of Elsinor, Mein Furst... for you. I think perhaps it could be your brother? Maybe?"

The door is closed before Lothar's exasperated "Thank you" reaches the servant's ears. With a sigh and a small shrug, the young boy races back to his other duties, convinced Herr Lothar is surely setting the scroll aside and continuing whatever weirdness he's at today.

Which is exactly the truth.

When he lifts his face from his notes, Lothar finds Meister Otto reading in his chair, in a corner of the small room. As usual, his heart fills with respect for this man, just a servant, of no high blood, but who has taught him so much over the years. "Meister Otto, I didn't hear you come in" he says with a smile.
"Worry not Herr... I saw you were engrossed in your experiment and did not want to disturb you. How's it coming?" the elderly man replies, his old and wise green eyes nodding at the alembic.
Lothar hardly resists puffing out his chest in pride. "Quite well up to now. It needs to rest a whole night before it's finished."
"Well, mein Herr, even in the worst case, a DELAYED explosion would be by all means an improvement would it not?" Meister Otto adds, with a broadening smile. They both laugh, as Lothar cannot but admit the fact.

"I imagine, mein Herr, that scroll is for you?"
Lothar blushes, only now remembering about the message. He breaks the Academy Seal, muttering, as hope lights his eyes, "I do hope he's managed to arrange for that shipping of materials... I need a composite distiller and the glassblower here at the castle can't seem to make one properly. And the filters, too."

But as his eyes scan his brother's familiar, orderly writing, it is quite a different message than what his hopes dictate.

"Lothar,
I wish I could write to you in a far happier situation, and for greatly lighter motives. But the reasons you know keep me from writing what you're about to read to any of our brothers, and I do not want father to worry if it can be avoided.

Something is happening, Lothar. Something dark. Something... evil. These are the words an esteemed colleague of mine here at the Academy, very well versed in the divinatory arts, has used to describe the situation at hand. He wouldn't - or, I believe, couldn't - be more precise. But of one thing more he was sure... It is happening close to Von Wulfe castle, or in any case in our lands.

Were I in any way in the condition of investigating the matter myself, I would never give you this worry. But my duties at the Academy keep me here, and yet this nagging feeling of dread leaves me no other chance.
I trust your intelligence more than I mistrust your young age, Lothar. I have told you more than once what a brilliant wizard you'd have made. And I believe this situation calls, more than anything else, for intelligence.

I do not trust this parchment to write what little more I know. I have sent one of my most brilliant apprentices to meet you in Dresd at the Bucking Foal Inn. His name is Andoric Von Dreele, and he has been instructed to wait for you. Don't tell anything to father, or our brothers; give them my respects, and tell them that I hope to visit soon.
Good luck, Lothar.

Rudolf

P.S. I am sorry, I can't send what you asked for."

"Bad news, mein Herr?" Meister Otto's voice is concerned, as he watches Lothar set fire to the parchment.
"No, it's my brother Rudolf writing he can't send me the materials I asked... a pity, but nothing serious. I have to go prepare for supper now, Meister. Be well." Lothar's mind is already spinning as he paces towards his room.


That night, at dinner, Lothar is late... as always. As his mother's smile and his older brother Godard's frown greet him, he sits in front of his father and proceeds to help himself to a generous serving of pork.
"Has there been word of Peter?" he asks casually.
His mother nods. "Yes, he sent a pigeon. He arrived safely at your sister Ella's side... it actually seems a grandson might be on the way for your Father and me!" The table cheers at the good news.
"Rudolf sent me a letter, by the way" Lothar adds casually. "He sends his respects, and seems to have managed to get me that admission to visit the Academy Library I'd asked so long ago!"
Godard frowns immediately. "And I assume he took care of the fee too?"
Lothar does not even pause to think. "He mentioned no fee... I knew nothing of that. Probably it's his surprise for my birthday.. I won't spoil it. So I was planning to leave soon and make the most of it... if I am not needed here, that is."
Herr Elric, Lothar's father, finally speaks. "Your studies, if not perfectly suited to your status" (here both he and his wife Katrina share a small smile) "always have been very important to you, Lothar. If your brother thinks you can profit from perusing the tomes at the Academy, you may go with my blessing." And with this, supper being over, the young man hugs his mother and father for good fortune, and the room is quickly deserted.
But Lothar stops Godard before he leaves for his rooms.
"So I'm leaving tomorrow." he starts, smiling.
His brother is quite puzzled. "... I wish you a safe journey...?"
"You wouldn't want a Von Wulfe to go around penniless like a beggar would you?" Lothar says with a frown. Godard may be a great accountant, and surely Peter did good in leaving that duty to the younger brother when Father left him in charge of the House, but since he's started taking care of the family's finances, getting money has grown harder by the day.
The older brother sighs. "How much were you thinking?" he says, taking a parchment from the small bag at his side.
"Well, since i'll be away for a couple months, and I'll have to take care of lodging and food probably, but I don't want to be too heavy on the house's trasure, and I- "
"HOW MUCH, Lothar?"
The young nobleman caresses his flowing moustache. "Well, a hundred Shields?"
Godard writes a small note and signs it. "Here is a note for fifty, for our treasurer. He should still be downstairs. I'll send a message to our representative in Elsinor, to keep fifty more ready for you .. in a month's time. Good night."
"Thank you and good dreams to you, Godard" says Lothar with a grateful smile. As the room is empty, he glances down at the parchment. He knows his brother, and he knows he always writes number in figures. "50", says the money order, in his brother's scribbled hand. Lothar figures adding a nice, slender "1" before that number can possibly do no harm, and taking out his own portable quill and inkwell, he complies.

A few minutes later, Lothar boldly steps in the treasurer's room. The sleepy, elderly man is just getting ready to close the strongbox and settle for bed, and his old knees shake a bit at seeing the young man stride inside.
"Good evening! My brother Godard sent me to you. He told me he needs a couple things ready for the morning. He mentioned a list of all the expenses in the last three months, in decreasing order, because he wants to check a few things, and an alphabetical listing of our debtors, oh and there's this money order to take, (here he hands the corrected parchment to the increasingly worried man), and he also mentioned something about inventoring the cellars, i think" Lothar closes with a perfect smile.
"I... I hadn't been warned, mein Furst... I... let me start with this" resolves the man, opening the steel strongbox and counting the Shields for Lothar, who happily lets them fall in his pouch. "And now please Herr, if you don't mind... I'll need all night for the duties you told me about, so I'd better start immediately..." the man's voice is crestfallen.
Lothar smiles paternally. "I'll tell you what, my good man. I see you're quite busy and tired... I'll put in a good word with my brother. Do the work tomorrow morning, I'm sure the thing can wait a few hours."
He leaves, the treasurer's thanks echoing in the hall behind him.

He's got some packing up to do, and quick, and then a long, hard night ride. When Godard comes check with the treasurer tomorrow morning - and Lothar knows he will - he doesn't want to be around.

 

[Naathez]

Black Bard! My first reader to come out and show himself! My thanks... I hope you are the first of many. And you've had the update too .

 

[Naathez]

Where not to go when in Dresd, or "What happens down dark alleys"

Livia's eyes dart around quickly. Nobody else is in sight. No apparent way of escape. She has a dagger under her cloak, but she doubts she'd be up to challenge two men.

Which amounts to remarkably bad news.

"Good day... May I help you?" She says with a smile.

The first of the two men approaches her with a limp. He's dressed in little better than rags; he has pasty, reddish hair, and is back is severely hunched. But the feature Livia's eyes are most drawn to is his malevolent, half-toothless sneer.

"On the contrary, young girl" he says, a chuckle from his friend accompanying his taunt " I believe a lady lost in such a seedy part of town needs ALL the help and assistance she can get. There are such dangerous people around."
"How very true" Livia starts replying, her mind racing to find a way out. "I just got lost, and being here, lost, defenseless, in a foreign city, worries me so... perhaps you could ... help?"

As his taller friend, blondish long hair falling on his face, idly twirls a stout, short wooden club in his fingers, the hunchback steps yet closer.

"This large leather bag here, for example. Far too heavy for you, certainly. Let me help you" he adds, moving to slip it from her shoulder. Livia instinctively clenches her fingers around the bag, but the taller thug's frown dissuades her.

His horrible sneer contorting in a parody of a smile, the hunchback starts rummaging through the bag. His eyes open a tad wider as he pulls out a short sword, with an evidently precious scabbard.

"My friend, it would seem the lass here lied to us... not defenseless at all, see? Hmm... and there's good old gold in here too..." -his hand briefly weighs the small coin pouch before pocketing it- "and spare clothes, but a gentleman doesn't rummage through a lady's clothes does he?... and what is this, now?" he adds, pulling out a small wooden carved tube, its ends wrapped in leather.

Livia's breath catches. Her orders are in there.

"I see" she starts, her heart racing "I see I have found men of taste. That object comes from my land, Lian." She pauses to casually caress her hair,as if to settle it, the thugs' eyes only now noticing the queer shape of her ears. "Indeed it is of great value... if sold to the right person. Should you be so kind to give it back, I would be more than happy to share the profits with you."
-Weak-, she thinks, even as she speaks her piece.

The hunchback shares a knowing look with his friend, and sneers again, as he addresses her.

"And how about my friend and I go find someone who could be 'the right person'? I don't see why we should trouble you any longer, lass..." The taller man starts walking slowly towards Livia, the club twirling dangerously. He looks FAR more used to slamming it into people's heads than what Livia would like.

"But you don't know what it is! And it's not an object for anyone... why lose out on some of the profit? Take... Take me with you. I'll be sure to get a decent price. We all are happy - we all win. Right?" Her reassuring smile seems to strike something in the mind of her robber.

"All right. Be a gallant man, and take the lady's arm" he concludes with an evil chuckle, as his friend's strong hand grips Livia's arm.

This time Livia's eyes are very intent in memorizing the way through this maze of alleys. She means to know where they're taking her. If she gets out alive, that is. Their "leisurely stroll" doesn't last too long, and at last they end up in a tiny alley, an old wooden door at its end. The hunchback opens it without knocking, and she's pulled through.

Her eyes can see quite well in the almost complete darkness inside; the candle on the tiny table gives off enough light for her. The room is cramped with crates, barrels and shelves, loaded with all kinds of objects. She sees fabric piled up in one of the crates, house objects, bottles, even cutlery. As the hunchback shouts out "Gaurad! Come out, we've got work!", the black curtain at the far end of the room parts slightly, letting the new man in.

Gaurad is quite tall, and very slim. He is dressed in a jerkin, and trousers (ridiculous habit they have in this Lares-forgotten land, of having men wear those impossibly uncomfortable things on their legs. Livia has noticed it all over the city.), and his shirt is black but spotless... his short hair, and moustache, are blonde. The man is more than passably handsome, for a Verlunder.

"What are you shouting about in my house, hunchback? Did nobody tell - My, my, my, what have we here! Let go of the lady you goof! Sit, darling, sit. And tell me why my impossibly rude associates have deemed it right to bring you to me" he says, sitting on a stool in front of Livia and starting to pour out red wine from a bottle he fished out of a crate.

"Well, it has to do with a certain object they found in my possession..." A simple gesture from Gaurad is enough for the sneering hunchback to hand him the tube, and set the short sword and its fine scabbard on one of the shelves. Gaurad examines the tube, carefully.

"A nice object... wonderful carving. Certainly the work of a skilled artisan , but... "
Livia catches her chance. "... but you cannot see any extraordinary value, right, my good sir? I thought as much. The object comes from my land, Lian."Gaurad's eye thin, growing more interested. "I was about to take it to a Lianer contact here in Dresd when I met your associates here... of course, due to your kind assistance to a foreigner like me, I would more than happily share any profit from the sale to you, were I to have it back unharmed."

Gaurad yawns slightly. "I know of no Lianer, with the delightful exception of you, in the whole of Dresd. In any case, I am not a man to waste a good opportunity. I will not sell, or harm, this object" he lifts the tube, tantalizingly in reach of Livia's grasp, yet so impossible to grab "for three full days. You have my word. You may return in this time, with the money, and should I deem it sufficient for my trouble, I'll be more than happy to proceed with the sale." His voice is too definitive to let Livia hope to sway his opinion.
"Of course, I value my privacy. Were you to come here, in my humble abode, with... unappreciated company... I could not guarantee for the safety of this object, nor actually for yours.Now, if I know those beasts that brought you here, they probably even took your money", the man continues. "Give it back, you scoundrels." The hunchback obeys without a word.

Livia is quite puzzled, as she takes the money pouch back. "There.. there was also a sword, good sir..."

Gaurad allows himself a tiny smile. "Ah, I fear it might have been sold already... you know, things enter and exit my shop like the flow of a river," he says, walking over to the shelf. "Yet, by incredible happenstance, I just seem to have a Lianer-made sword here in my stock... you may surely appreciate the intricate level of its decoration. Perhaps you might be interested in buying it?"

Livia walks out with a sigh a short while later, her sword safely tucked among her clothes in her bag, and her money pouch a lot lighter than an hour earlier.

She has three days to regain her orders, or her mission might very well end before even starting.
"That's plenty of time", she thinks, as she walks in what she hopes is the right direction for the docks.

 

[Black Bard]

A real bastard this Gaurad fellow! But I liked...
Can`t wait to see the group together...

 

[Naathez]

A Viknij in the City

Viktor is still catching his breath. Yes, the man at the village HAD mentioned "lots and lots of people". But this is just too much. His back to a wall, he looks around the bustling activity of the docks. Just here, there's probably more people than he's ever seen before, let alone at one time. And nobody seems to have noticed him, though he's a newcomer... back at the village, someone would already have offered to take him to the chief. "Weird mainlanders", he concludes with a shrug. After consuming a brief breakfast of bread and beer - EXCELLENT beer - at a place called "Two-handled Mug", which seems to be a great mainlander invention, a place where you give coins to be fed, Viktor steps out, quite unsure of where to go. He asks directions for one of the features his friend told him about, a certain "Temple of the Three" , and unhurriedly walks in that direction.

Although the distractions are manifold, and every shop window, every passing cart, the noises and scents all conspire to steal his attention, Viktor manages not to get lost. He stares in awe at the large stone building, touching the sculpted portal in amazement. He's never seen a place like this: the majesty, the workmanship of the great temple are almost magical to his eyes. As he strolls in, the bas-reliefs at the altar catch his eyes, and he walks up to them.

"May I help you, brother?"
"Brother?" Viktor thinks, "I have no brothers..." He turns to see a young man, dressed in a long and simple blue tunic. "Who are you?" he asks, warily eyeing the stranger.
"I am Brother Reinhold, an Acolyte of the Sage" the man says with a smile.
"Acolyte?" Viktor is quite puzzled. "What's an Acolyte? and why in the world does he think he's my brother? I'd know if i had an Acolyte brother, whatever that is." His frown deepens.

"I noticed you were looking at the Icons of the Three...?"

Viktor steps back, looking over the great stone slabs again.

The first one depicts an old, bearded man. He carries a staff in his right hand and a large, heavy book in the right. "That must be the 'Sage'", he thinks. Opposite the Sage stands a second statue, depicting a large, muscular man. He wears what seems to be a blacksmith's leather apron, and in his hands he clutches a mighty maul. Viktor sees the image of his father for a moment.

And then, in the middle of the two slabs, stands a third stone figure.
A tall man, his face covered and hidden by a massive helm, a heavy chain mail covering his body, his hands joined on the hilt of a large, broad sword. The bas-relief is so realistic it seems the man might lift the sword and lunge at him at any moment. Speechless, Viktor gestures at the statue, muttering "I'd... I think I'd be more interested in knowing of.. of him, I..."

Brother Reinhold smiles. "I should have known, had I looked more carefully at you and the large axe you have strapped to your back. You may want to talk to Brother Turam, then. He's an Acolyte of the Warrior; you may recognize him, he wears a tunic very like mine, only red. He should be around the temple somewhere."

Viktor nods, as the blue-robed man smiles again and silently leaves.
A few minutes later, after marveling at the wonderful stained-glass windows that let in streams of multicolored light, piercing the darkness of the temple, he leaves. These Acolythings may be polite, but he's not sure he likes someone who calls everyone "brother".

Munching on a sausage he bought from a cart in the large temple square, Viktor heads for the docks again. The long stroll in the city has made him hungry, and he licks his lips at the thought of another mug of that delicious beer. He's so busy thinking of where else to go this afternoon that he cannot help bumping into the cloaked figure stepping into the Two-Handled Mug Inn. As he hurries to apologize, the figure's hood drops, and the figure turns to look at him.

She's a woman. She's pretty, he thinks. Oh, dark hair. Probably.

At the moment, he can't take his eyes off those pointed ears.

 

[Black Bard]

I`ve found interesting the tripartite church (Sage, Warrior and the "Blacksmith"???)...
I`m really enjoying this story, Naathez! Keep it coming!!!