-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=(* A10: Temple District *)=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
          The air of solemn, heavy divinity in the area is often broken by laughter. 
The dual presence of the deities Althea and Daeus, man and wife, stand towards the 
center, with their children and their children's temples positioned around them. The 
presence of the divine is felt not only by their temples, but also by the actions of 
their worshipers. The great plaza is as a social center, paved in brilliant, white 
flagstones and covered in benches and sitting areas. Priests, acolytes, and servicefolk 
of all stripes roam the plaza, going from one task to the other.
          At the front of the temples of Daeus and Althea, at the Plaza's centermost point, 
rests a great fountain, the cheerful waters reflecting the Sun during the day, and the 
Moon and Stars at night. The fountain is strategically centered, and is oft a place for 
wisdom and lesson-giving. It is not uncommon for a priest of some stripe or the other to 
stand there, surrounded by the curious and faithful, delivering messages of hope or 
contemplation. At other times, it and the plaza become a landscape of celebration of 
the holy holidays.
          Few vendors are seen in the plaza--the nearby temples provide most food or 
services. Towards the west, the great Bridge stretches across the river, and towards 
the east, the Redridge mountains. The plaza rests in the midst of it all, the temples 
massive and grand on the Alexandrian scale. 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
 Azog            A huge male orc with long black hair in a topknot.    0s   1h
 Erendriel       A short, fair ball of fire                            1m   2h
 Seldan          Red-blonde Eldanar man wearing Eluna's colors and sym 4m   3h
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Temple of Tarien (TAR)    Temple of Serriel (TSE)   Temple of Gilead (TG)
Temple of Eluna (TE)      Temple of Daeus (TD)      Temple of Angoron (TAN)
Temple of Althea (TA)     North (N)                 Bridge (W)
Up Mountain Road (NE)     

"Her answers are seldom clear." Seldan doesn't appear to have any trace of that black skin 
right now, despite the cheerful sunlight dappling the ground around the bench. "I suspect 
it is the powers of unknown origin as much as the blackness. I was able to learn something 
that might help - if they will listen. Either way, they will find answers for themselves." 
The pair are sitting on a bench away from the main fountain.

Hun'rar has arrived.

Erendriel is outside the Elunite temple, talking quietly with Seldan. "Well, the good thing 
I've noticed about the Elunites is that there's a wide range of like, opinions and 
attitudes. It's, you know, a big religion. Different attitudes. Hopefully the ones with the
attitude against you can be, um, not a problem and you can just deal with the ones who can
listen and look."

Azog has just exited the Temple of Angoron and looks around as if seeking something. Not 
seeing what he's looking for, he'll head over to where Erendriel and Seldan are sitting. 
"Good morning," he says in his Dran-accented Tradespeak.

Hun'rar comes down the steps of Gilead's temple, arrayed in full battle gear with his full 
plate, sword and shield amongst other weapons. His helmet bounces against the thigh plate 
from where it hangs on his belt, a grimace on his face. Spotting the gang though he heads 
over, nodding to everyone.

"Yes, and that is much. Most importantly, She has not turned her face from me." Seldan 
breaks off the conversation, though, as faces both familiar and not approach. He looks 
to be freshly bathed, with damp hair. "Good morning, both of you." His own Tradespeak 
holds more than a little Myrrish tint to it.

Erendriel waves to Azog and Hun'rar as they approach, and smiles to Seldan. "That's right. 
And people will see that. You're a Paladin. People respect that kind of thing, don't they? 
It's kind of proof, isn't it? That you haven't changed? If you were corrupted..."

Azog looks between Seldan and Erendriel, and interrupts shamelessly, "You're both scholars, 
yes?" No manners at all. It must be pretty urgent, though, given his tone. "This is
important. Do either of you know just how much force is needed to pierce the hide of a Red
Wyrm dragon?"That's an odd thing to be asked out of the blue, and by Azog, who's mantra has
always been simply Hit Very Hard.

(OOC) Azog says, "Yes. Also, that's a K/Arcana DC 30 sort of question, for the precision
Azog's looking for."

GAME: {Wazoo} Erendriel rolls knowledge/arcana: (3)+10: 13
GAME: {Wazoo} Hun'rar rolls knowledge/arcana+2: (1)+18+2: 21 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: {Wazoo} Seldan rolls knowledge/arcana: (17)+10: 27

Hun'rar heard the last bit of Azog's question. "A great Wyrm? It would take a lot," 
he notes with a shrug "How much though is hard to say. Finding gaps and loose scales would 
be more important." he notes being part red dragon himself. "Still have not met one that 
big though."

"That is why ..." Before Seldan can get further than that, Azog interrupts. "I think Hun'rar
is correct. It is a matter of finding an opening in the scales and striking at the right
point. I cannot say that I have faced one such, to tell you more, but -" He pauses, 
blinking. "The scales will shear if struck sideways." His tone changes, ever so slightly.

Erendriel giggles and looks to Azog. "Honestly a Red Wyrm dragon is about the last thing I 
would try to fight. They lap up anything I would throw at them. Honestly, if you have to 
ask, don't try it?" Smiling with a shrug. "Just don't tell Sandiel in that clothes store 
you're hunting dragons. She'll freak out at you."

Azog nods to Hun'rar. "Yes, that's about the answer I got at the Temple," he agrees. "But 
I'm looking for something more precise, if you could find it. I'm not worried so much about 
strategy and tactics - as you say, that plays a considerable role also, but it's not my 
concern here." He admits, "I have not met one so big, either. And hope not to, at least not 
soon. But. I am working on a project for the strengthening of our Temple." Seldan get a
considering look, his answer was on the cusp of being useful to him, and Erendriel gets a 
pause, then a nod. "I will ask others elsewhere, I think," he says.

Hun'rar nods "well if you have further questions I can answer some, I have thought deeply 
about how to not only fight as a dragon but how to fight them." he unshoulders his shield. 
"This here is a Dragonslayers shield for example. It helps avoid breath weapons bolsters 
against fear."

Erendriel takes a deep breath, and sighs. "Well I'd rather be worying about hunting than 
other things. Right now all I'm doing is training, and it's boring!"

Azog nods thoughtfully to Hun'rar. "Avoiding the flames and the fear are critical," he 
agrees. "Though that is not what I am measuring, either. I am thinking," he explains, "of a
training dummy, but one that records how hard you hit it. But," he goes on, "and this is
where the dragon toughness thing comes into play, I want to be able to calibrate my target
dummy so that it's as useful to me as to a neophyte. But for that, I have to know how tough
various sorts of dragons are. I chose dragons as a benchmark because the scholars I talked
to assured me that dragons are so widely varied that there are some that are suitable to 
any skill level." He nods to Erendriel, but says, "Training is essential for a warrior. You 
never really stop training. Or, I never have. This thing I am working on will give me a 
better idea of where I stand, though, and where I can improve myself."

Seldan nods. "Perhaps the library can help." Erendriel's statement brings a laugh to his
throat and a smile to his face, though. "I'm sure it is, but you will be glad for it the 
first time you face a real enemy."

Hun'rar shrugs "Dragons of any size can be very dangerous and the older they get it, the 
worse it will be. Not just because of their size and power but also due to their 
intelligence and cunning," he says as a warning. "Still training is good... have you at
least broken it up with some fun things? Find a place where you can fling some fireballs
maybe?" he offers to Erendriel as as suggestion.

Erendriel listens intently to all three. All three of them being far more serious 
combatants than she'll ever be. Even after the sneaky training she's gotten, and will get. 
"It's like the same thing over and over. I get it already. If I didn't trust Seldan..."

Azog nods about the library. "I will check there as well, though I am not the sort to do
research. It takes too long, and the time is better spent with pursuits of strength. But 
for those as do that, I think it may be less onerous." To Erendriel, he says, "But it's 
never the same way over and over. Even if you do the same thing, your enemy may react 
differently. Or they may not, but you expected them to. It is a constant struggle to 
maintain your superiority. When you see those differences, and master them, that is when 
you will be consequential."

"Your mind understands, but will your body do it when your mind cannot?" Seldan leans
forward, elbows on his knees. "You repeat it until your body knows it at least as well as 
your mind. Your body moves faster than your mind, and when you react correctly, 
automatically, then will you have truly mastered the technique. You will see." He stands, 
though. "If you will forgive me, I should see to one other matter. I will meet you later 
this afternoon." His tone makes it clear that he expects her to be there, but he nods to 
all three before moving back towards the Temple. This time, though, he goes around to a 
side door.

Seldan has disconnected.

Hun'rar nods "Seldan is correct, the basic strikes, parries and movements have to be 
automatic, so you can think about your overall strategy and look for the ending strike. It 
frees your mind," he notes with a grin. "KInd of like casting, after a while the spell is 
sort of automatic and your more concerned about putting it in the right place with maximum 

Erendriel shrugs. "I'll take your word for it. I Said I'd do it, so I'll do it, but... it's 
boring. So boring." She stands up and stretches.

Azog nods agreement with what Seldan and Hun'rar say. "It is a thing, called by some, 
'muscle memory'. It means your body knows how to do a thing even when you're not thinking 
about it. It requires much repetition." As to boring, he shrugs. "If you are bored, you 
will not learn it properly. You must focus on the task. Why you are doing it. Why you are 
doing it the way you are doing it. The details matter."

Hun'rar nods. "Indeed, although trying to spar sometime could help be a little less boring 
and like I said, its important to take an occasional break for some fun, recharge, reset 
and all that." he notes from his own experience. "During my paladin training I would 
challenge some of the other initiates to wrestling matches or go get out to go hunting."

Erendriel sighs, and sits back down again after stretching. "You're probably right about 
that you know. It's like... I'm doing it because Seldan suggested it was a way to learn, 
you know?"

Azog is sort of the opposite of ADD. He pays fierce attention to all the tiny differences 
between similar situations, and so he's never bored with 'more of the same'. He hrmphs at 
taking breaks, though he admits, "There is benefit to varied training. You wind up prepared 
for more things." He eyes Erendriel "You should not train at others' behest. Train for

Hun'rar shrugs "So why dragons, Azog? Could you simply not use various thicknesses of 
armored plate? And then teach someone to go as far as they can? I have studied to fight 
dragons for example but have yet to actually fight one," he notes with a shrug.

Erendriel looks between the two. "You know, Azog, you're really making points that sound 
good and smart. You're right, if I didn't care, it'd be totally a watse of time. But... I'm 
trusting Seldan. The Inquisitors told me I wasn't doing it right, when I was trying to use 
a Mage Hand to um, mess with locks and traps and stuff. So Seldan offered to teach me how 
to learn, and he's using the starknife to do it."

Azog explains to Hun'rar, "Because dragons give you a better benchmark. Or any creatures,
really. But dragons are among the most varied and are valid targets at almost any skill 
level. Thicknesses of plate are arbitrary." Plus, the dragons are more interesting. To 
Erendriel, he says, "In the end, only you will know if a thing is right or not. If a thing 
can be done or not. There is value in listening to the wisdom of others. But in the end, 
you must find out for yourself."

Hun'rar shrugs "Varied in age certainly. Suppose so, though you could say the same about 
demons, devils or even elementals. I feel like those are more common too, especially if you 
head out onto the Vast." he notes as a suggestion. "But having the strength to pierce any 
kind of armor with be important, I fail to see how you cannot substitute steel and dragon 

Erendriel nods. "I met an old dragon once. A good one though, shiny and pleasant. Is it 
just a prestige thing, that you want to know if your attacks could totally pierce that?"

Azog says to Hun'rar, "You can absolutely substitute steel for dragon scales. I do not have 
access to dragon scales at all, much less the number and variety I'd need. So it will have 
to be steel." He nods at what Erendriel, and says, "Demons and such are much more 
extraplanar and strange. Their defenses are much less ... constant. Dragons, I am told, if 
selected correctly, can provide a smooth scale."

Hun'rar shrugs "Its just a rare foe to encounter. Would be better to practice against 
common enemies like... wild life, ogres and trolls for example. Sometimes even wearing 
armor of different levels. They don't have scales that toughen over time but that would be 
hard to quantify as each dragon ages differently."

Erendriel nods to each. "Makes sense. Which explains why you want it exact. I'd have to 
look at a library and refresh myself. But most of us could do that."

Azog thinks about Huh'rar's words. "What you say is true. But the range, I think, is far, 
far too varied between common monsters of various capabilities. Dragons, at least, are 
fairly consistent within only a few parameters. If I name a color and an age, I can tell you
about how tough they are to injure. Or the sage I am looking for can." So, it's mostly 
planning at this point. He nods to Erendriel, "I see. Well, if you find out, please send 
word to the Temple of Garganos Behemoth." Angoron, that is.

Hun'rar nods "Supose there is sense in that, its just difficult to get good examples of 
various ones, you know? But I can help somewhwhat, I have scales for myself and can turn 
into a dragon myself but not bigger than I currently am."

Azog nods to Huh'rar, and looks intrigued at turning into a dragon. "What sort of dragon do 
you turn into?" he wonders. "I am sure that having an actual dragon to test against will be 
very useful. In later stages, certainly, in order to compare how the test dummy registers 
hits with a real benchmark."

Erendriel nods. "Temple of Garganos Behemoth. Okay." Then turning to Hun'rar's discussions 
of himself. "That's so interesting"

Hun'rar grins "Red, allow me to demonstrate." he says taking a step back. As he does his 
hands and feet light aflame, spreading until he is completely engulfed in a mere few 
seconds. Theyquickly disperse leaving behind in a medium red dragon in its place, albeit 
with the same green eyes as Hun'rar. "Not bad, huh?" the dragon says in a familiar voice, 
stretching his wings.

Azog looks quite impressed by that. "That is definitely an interesting thing."

Erendriel looks at Hun'rar doing his thing. She then claps loudly.

Hun'rar trots around a littls swishing his tail. "Not sure how I would feel about people 
trying to strike me though. Also there is a palpable desire to breathe fire." he notes, 
nearby people making just a little more space for the red dragon, which draws more than a 
few stares. When Enendriel claps though he looks away, a little embarassed.

Azog has no fear of dragonfire. But he has little enough fear of anything, really. He 
shrugs about the striking, but nods. "We may be able to figure things out some other way," 
he allows.

Erendriel lifts a finger, spins it, and well, she fires a very tiny flame ray at Hun'rar.
Someplace on the skin where it won't matter. "You should talk to Sandiel about that. She'd 
agree with you."

Hun'rar seems completely unphased by the fire. "I do enjoy this form, though its for a
limited amount of time. I am stronger, tougher and nearly immune to fire." he notes with 
some glee.

Azog watches all this, nods slowly. "Well," he says. "I have others I must ask. So I will 
be on my way. Farewell." And so saying, he will depart westward.

Erendriel waves to Azog, and gets up herself. "Hun'rar... can you.. fly? Like, all day?"

Hun'rar lifts himself into the sky, a few feet above the ground and flies around Erendriel
before landing in front of her in a flurry of wings "I can fly in this form but it lasts 
for mere minutes. The power it requires is pretty draining and I won't be able to do it
again until tomorrow." he notes. "But it is later in the day and I still want to get used 
to this form."

(Scene fades)

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=(* A15: Mithralla Merchandise *)=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

          Here, a large wooden structure has been built. Its somewhat eccentric 
yet elegant design suggests its owner may be of the arcane persuasion. To the 
side of the main structure is a small corral to for horses or wagons. Before the 
central building, a massive sword emerges from the earth. A sign upon it reads: 
          Inside is a small seating area with several comfortable chairs. To the 
back, an unobtrusive but businesslike sales counter, and two large signs. One asks 
patrons to please wait here and not disrupt those inside the lab. The other offers 
a lab rental at a very reasonable rate. 

          To the left and right are a large set of doors. The doors on the right lead 
to a large room which takes up most of the building. Several long tables are scattered 
about, many with small tool racks. A small forge sits off to the side. Unlike the 
average workshop, maps of celestial bodies and guides to the elemental planes line 
the walls. Large frameworks of brass, silver, and crystal occupy space between the 
tables. A large shelf dominates the far wall, the containers upon it sporting such 
labels as "wyvern bile," "sulfur," "tiger's tears," and other exotic items. A 
glass-covered hole in the roof, set with mirrors, offers direct sunlight, or moonlight, 
to shine upon various projects.
          The doors to the left lead towards the direction of the mountains and 
what is reported to be a sildanyari-style ball room. Wizards.
          During regular store hours, a young Llyranesi man, Belhan Mithralla, 
keeps an eye on the shop and the lab. When not cleaning or helping a customer, he 
can usually be found reading some book from the library. 

                                EXTRAS: +view                                 

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
 Azog            A huge male orc with long black hair in a topknot.    0s   11m
 Mikilos         Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome.        4s   14m
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Sildanyari Ballroom (SB)  Book Storage (LIB)        Out (O)


 Mikilos is a slender male Dawn Elf, freakishly tall by elven standards, standing a 
 full head over the average human. His ivory skin and long blonde hair hold a rosy 
 warmth, as if dappled in spring sunshine, even when such light is not present. His 
 hazel eyes are deep set, and spark with curiousity. His hands are long and nimble, 
 but hold callus and stain from long use in craft. 

 He is dressed in a simple Grey robe, of a simple cut, unadorned with decoration. It 
 is however a strange, almost painfully Neutral Grey. His waist is defined by a simple 
 leather belt, from which a scroll case hangs upon one side, a well-used scabbard on 
 the other. Both trousers and boots are simple, black, and practical. An occasional 
 cloak guards against the weather or dust. Upon his brow sits a simple circlet of silver, 
 set with a small stone which shifts from blue to violet, depending on the light. 


     Azog is a monstrous orc, seven feet tall and massively built, with a youthful but 
careworn face. He has darkly tanned skin and black hair, shaved except for a topknot 
braided and hanging down his back. His shoulders are huge, and he has a barrel chest 
that tells of great strength. His abs are rock hard, and his hips solid, leading down 
into tree-trunk legs, though they're a bit bowed, characteristic of someone who spends 
a lot of time in the saddle.
     He wears a well-made suit of full plate armor in the Alexandrian style, except with 
armor spikes, with heavy pauldrons making his wide shoulders seem truly mighty, his 
breastplate gleaming dully under a plain gray tabard, with heavy greaves protecting his 
legs, the suit belted with a heavy leather girdle. A greathelm which matches the armor is 
lashed to the top of his backpack, where it can be pulled free and donned with a minimum 
of fuss. A bastard sword in a fine scabbard sits at his left hip, ready to draw, and a 
massive body shield is slung across his back, over his left shoulder, mostly obscuring 
his backpack. Over his right shoulder is the head of a massive adamantine earthbreaker.

It's Kesenday, Rhaltaas 04 09:54:21 1021. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and
Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty.

Azog has arrived in the shop with a much-older oruch in tow. He's not quite built on Azog's
scale, but there are mountains not built on Azog's scale, and in any event he's no
shrinking violet. Maybe six ten, though lean, which looks emaciated beside Azog. He's
wearing what looks like a leather overcoat - a cross between a lab coat with covered
pockets and a blacksmith's apron.

Mikilos sits quietly in the store proper, keeping an eye on the shop. Not that there's 
much to keep an eye on right at the moment, the place is otherwise empty. The elf's
attention is divided between a book in his lap (of course) and a small stone and rag 
in his hands. At the arrival, he glances up, and smiles, setting book and stone aside 
as he rises. "Good day to you sirs, how can I be of assistance?"

Azog nods a greeting to Mikilos. "Good day!" He introduces his companion. "This is the
Professor. He is an Artificer at the Temple of Garganos Behemoth." And certainly the
closest the Angorites come to a scholar. The Professor, who looks like the name Dementor
might be attached, nods. He's got the wild, manic look in his eye and the spidery hands 
of the advanced Artificer. He looks left and right before fixing a steely gaze right on
Mikilos. One that weighs to the ounce and measures to the micron. But he remains quiet -
he has the one who looks as if he cackles when left to his own devices - and lets Azog
speak. "We come seeking some knowledge that you may possess. A device I have envisioned 
and that the Professor will be building, but we do not know so much about dragons as we
need to complete the work. Though there is a prototype."

Mikilos nods, returning the Professor's gaze with... less than approval, but still polite.
"...an artifice dragon? I know something of dragons, but wouldn't quite call myself an
expert. What exactly are you attempting?" he inquires, a bit wary. Artifice has a bad 
habit of going wrong.

Azog explains to Mikilos as the Professor's quite interested gaze roams the shop, pausing
on certain details. It's hard to say which details. "We are working on a training dummy."
This must be the Royal 'We', Azog doesn't generally work on anything. Azog hits things,
generally. "But one that can be calibrated to different resistances and hardnesses
depending on the skill of the user. I have envisioned," Azog reveals the entirety of his
role in all this, "a scale based on the toughness of dragons, which I am told are quite
varied - from hatchling Whites to great Gold Wyrms. But we are not quitesure /how/ tough
and resilient each dragon is."

(OOC) Azog says, "Which is where a DC 30 K/Arcana check comes in."

GAME: {Wazoo} Mikilos rolls knowledge/arcana: (8)+27: 35

(OOC) Azog says, "That would give you knowldge covering up to CR25. Gold great wyrms are 
CR23, so your knowldge is encyclopedic."

Mikilos blinks, hesitates, and frowns thoughtfully. "Training dummies that can tell how
hard you hit them? That adapt to the type of hit you do?" He ponders several moments.
"Toughness would be difficult to measure directly. Dragons vary a fair amount. In size, 
yes, that's fairly straight foreward, but the different colors have their own strengths
and weaknesses. White dragons, you mentioned, tend to be at the low end of the scale, 
but do quite well in frozen enviroments. A red dragon, typically considered rather 
strong, would freeze in places a white dragon would frolic." He considers a moment. 
"A bit like, say, chain mail does well again a slashing blade, but poorly again the point
of a spear. A plate of armor turns aside a spear, but can be crushed by a club. And 
of course dragons are living things. One adult gold dragon may have spent his years in
study of poems, nice in its own way but little use in battle. Another could have spent 
the same years in study of battle magics. Same type of dragon, same age, but vastly
different danger in battle." He sighs, and grins. "Not that any grown dragon isn't 
dangerous. But I think I could work out some sort of scale based on age and different 

Azog nods to Mikilos. "I am told," he explains, glancing at the Professor, "that a 
dragons temperament for poetry or flower arranging or battle has little effect on the
hardness of his scales. On battle prowess, certainly. But not on actual hardness." The
Professor nods when Azog looks his way, and Azog goes on, "Would you have time, then, to
assist us with the making and calibrating of our test target?"

Mikilos nods in agreement. "Certainly are spells to make scales harder, but yes, the base
duribility should be similar." He ponders a moment. "There would be out-liers, of course. 
A dragon who was near starved and sickly would likely have brittle scales, but suppose can
ignore such things." He considers for several moments. "...what exactly do you plan to 
-do- with this test dummy, once it's finished?"

Azog beams at being asked his purpose. This is where he is really quite satisfied with 
himself, clearly. "I will hit it." The Professor gives him a sort of weary look, and he 
goes on, "And it will measure how hard I hit it. I think that a good two-minute beating 
will average out any peaks and surges and give a somewhat avreage figure. Then, when you 
grow in power, you can test yourself again, and chart your growth in strength."

Mikilos considers a long moment, and nods. "Very interesting. I'm not sure the variables
can all be accounted for, but it's certainly worth looking into. Are you planning to just
punch, or to use weapons? Real weapons, or padded? Finding a material durible enough to
withstand two minutes of you pounding on it may be difficult. I mean, adamantine could do
it, but I doubt would be flexible enough to recored the desired information. Any way, yes,
this sounds very interesting, and I'd be happy to offer what assistance I can." He sighs,
and frowns. "Which may not be as much as I would like. This 'Black Plague' has proven
elusive in good solutions."

Azog nods gravely about the plague. He doesn't know much about it, himself, and he asks,
"Are you assisting with the research to help end it? I do not want to pull you away from
that." The Professor looks dismissive of the plague, or perhaps has no relevant skills. 
Nor does Azog, really. "But if you can help with our research, that would be greatly

Mikilos nods. "I've come up with a tonic that supresses most of the symptoms, lets those
infected go out and live fairly normal lives, but an actual cure... well, we've found a few
methods, but they quite taxing, and would kill most infected. Right now we're hunting down
the one who likely creature the plague, hopefully they have a cure, or at least some notes
to aid us. So anyway, yes, I'm busy with that, but there are long periods where there's
nothing to do but wait. So I will have time to offer at least some assistance."

Azog ohs at getting Mikilos for the in-between times, and he looks pleased. "Excellent.
There's not really any lab space at the Temple, so I have rented a small building in the
Lower Market District where the Professor has set up his laboratory." He hands over a 
small slip of paper on which directions are written. The Professor smiles widely. Almost 
hungrily. Artificers.

Mikilos nods. "I'll give some thought to various dragon toughness, try and work out a
general scale that could be used fro your project." He considers. "have a few scraps of
dragon hide around to calibrate with. Will take a little time to work something out, but
will let you know when I've made a baseline."

Azog nods, looks pleased. "Thank you. I am glad we came to you. I am very excited about 
this project." He looks over to the Professor, and says, "I think with that sorted out, we 
can get back to the lab." The Professor looks startled, peers at Azog, shrugs and nods. 
They will turn and head out.

Mikilos nods, and waves as they depart. "If anything comes up, feel free to leave word at
the shop. It's one of the better ways to reach me."

(Scene fades)

-=--=--=--=--=--=(* A07: Lower Alexandria Market District *)-=--=--=--=--=--=-
          Just west of the Northern Highbridge and east of the arena, commerce 
blooms. Noisy and bustling, most anything may be purchased here for a price. 
Vendors from all cultures sell their wares from exotically colored carts, and 
the smells of different nations and far-off city-states mix with local ones 
from Alexandria and its riverbanks. 
          For all its commerce, visitors are advised to keep hold of their purses. 
Even the merchants possess a certain, cunning look. Most are positioned at carts or 
stalls as opposed to a formal storefront, with trade here being mobile, and visiting 
from all parts of the world. 
          Though the quality of goods suffers here compared to Upper Alexandria, the 
options are more diverse. Too, the oversight of the Watch is slightly less, and during 
times events are held at the Arena, chaos abounds. After dark, the square becomes a 
hangout for bards and other entrepreneurs whose business is best conducted by night; 
the shadows at the edges of the square often contain furtive figures engaging in 
their own brand of business.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
 Azog            A huge male orc with long black hair in a topknot.    0s   6h
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Craft's Crafts (CC)       Anvilclang Smithy (AS)    Prestigious Moon (PM)
Fernwood Pub (FP)         West (W)                  Bridge (NE)
South (S)                 

Svarshan has arrived.

Azog met Svarshan in the Temple district, that's where Azog spends much of his time, but
Svarshan was a person who'd be perfect for what he had planned. "Svarshan," he said, "you
should come see what I've had developed. You wouldn't guess we had a templegoer who was an
artificer, but we do." He leads the way to the market district, and to a small and 
non-descript storefront, which he unlocks and ushers Svarshan in. Inside is a heavily
armored and ... artifice enahced, it looks like, training mannikin. Like one you'd smack
around with a practice sword.

"An Angorite?" Svarshan asks, not for the last time. The voice is quiet, almost wondering.
Yet, he follows the oruch and when the store front comes to? Why not? He wears the garb of
an Am'sheri--comfortably worn. So comfortably, it appears a second skin. As though, were
one to remove a piece, such as a talisman, the rest of Svarshan might come with it.

Once inside, he squints as his eyes adjust. In the dim light, they reflect--not unlike 
the wild creatures, which lie under the brush.

Azog turns up a few lamps so the light is clear. He will lift the faceplate of the helmet
up and press a button inside. He'll close the helmet and draw his sword. His actual magic
sword, no less. "I'm gonna demonstrate for you the Test Dummy Mark I. It will evaluate 
your technique, so you can chart your progress and mark your gains. The ultimate in self
-improvement. Well, it won't improve you, but when you make changes, you can evaluate
yourself, and then see if your improvement -was- an iprovement." Behind the faceguard,
a red glowing gem extinguishes, and a green illuminates. And Azog begins attacking the 
test dummy. Full out, magic sword and all. At first, he's clearly warming up, but then 
the slam of steel on steel is heard. Glancing blows at first, but soon some ringing 
impacts result. A full two minutes pass before the green glowgem in the helmet 
extinguishes and the reg glows again, and Azog stops, panting a little bit. "It's 
a good workout, too," he says.

As Azog exercises, the sith-makar finds a seat--one where the door might be seen. 
Entrances, exits. Then, settles on a tripod of leg and tail.

When it lulls, he speaks up. "This...you made? Or one of. Thosse within your temple?" The
question is quietly curious. Edged, though quietly curious.

Azog inspects his blade for nicks or cracks, but it's a magic sword, that never happens.
That's what magic is for. Sheathing the long blade, he opens the faceplate again, and a
number is displayed in a row of small crystals. "A temple member of mine made it, to my
specifications. With the help of Mikilos, who is very knowledgable, it turns out. We are
indebted to him." The number displayed is 33. "I have gotten as high as 48, with some
differences in technique, of course. But the purpose of this is to let me know which
techniques are best for which situations."

"...a very oruch thing," Svarshan says, solemn. The tones are warm, though, and bemused.
"One did not know the mage. Worked in artifisse. But in hiss perssuit of weapons--one has
sseen the. Blade outsside his hall."

"...it lookss well-made. Do you practisse with it. Daily?" he asks. The sith-makar rests
where he is. Comfortable. After chasing small ones all day, perhaps it is good to sit.

It is a pretty oruch thing, at that, Azog supposes. As far as well-made, he says, "It's
mostly steel, but the striking plates, we made of adamantine steel for durability. It's
just been finally put together today, in fact, so no one uses it daily yet. I envision
using it every few weeks to chart ones progress. The way you measure young ones' heights
each year against a common wall and see how they've grown. Or I'm told that's a thing. We
never did it in the tents."

A chuffing sound. "We do it by. The height of ankle sscratches. And bites." The sith-makar
eases himself to a stand. Slow, enjoying taking his time, perhaps. Then, takes a step over
towards the dummy. 

"Adamantine?" he asks. Then leans in, and inhales deeply. Thoughtfully.

Azog is getting all ahead of himself in his excitement, and he ohs and answers a previous
question, "Oh yes, an Artificer who honors the Garganos Behemoth." An Angorite artificer.
That's got to be pretty strange. He nods about adamantine. "In parts. Not all of it, that
would have been far too expensive." He sighs a bit. "Would you like to try it out, then?
You can use your normal weapon, the dummy can take the hits."

The sith-makar leans back on his tail. Svarshan then starts to move forward and--then 
eases again. Back onto the tail, with an expression that is quiet. Thoughtful. "One must
give it. Thought. ...one musst reflect on this, warrior. It hass been ssome time ssince 
I fassed against artifice."

"...it has a different meaning for me. Though one can ssee this is very meaningful to 
you," he says, and stands. Looks to Azog with a warm smile. "One can ssay. It is the 
mosst oruch thing I have sseen. Today."

He looks to the dummy then. Thoughtful. Waaaay too thoughtful. Then, "Thank you for
ssharing this with me. Warrior."

Azog is pleased with his project, but he had anticipated more support for it. Well, maybe
Svarshan wasn't the best person to spring it on. He may find someone else to enthuse over
it. "Well, I apologize for taking your time. If you have any questions, or would like to
see it in action, please let me know." He'll let Svar out, turn down the lamps, and close
up the shop.

(Scene fades)