Olek's Prize

Logfile from Tenebrae - Olek.

It's Variday, Daeshen 30 17:49:25 1021. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and ebbing.
Cold rain falls from a grey-black sky without moon or stars. A raw wind blows from the east.

-=--=--=--=--=(* A14: Sage Orum's Plaza, University District *)-=--=--=--=--=-
Named after one of Alexandria's most learned (and perhaps addled) minds, the new University
District of the city contains a number of entertainment spots as well as areas of culture and learning.
Though many structures and sculptures can be found here, two buildings dominate the plaza with an air
of friendly animosity--the grand buildings of the Society for Progressive Arcanists and the Artificer's
Guild.
Poised on opposite sides of the central plaza, the two face one another like old misers, each
uncertain as to what the other's up to, and pranks between students are a rule of thumb. A series of
levies and fines exists should they get too far out of hand, though at times the results may be
spectacular. Performers often make use of the great plaza by filling it with music, and rare is the
visit without passing a performer's hat or three, five, or nine. Likewise, ramshackle shops selling
every sort of magic bauble line the ways, all of varying (and often questionable) quality. A grand
statue of Sage Orum overlooks it all, his expression slightly perplexed perhaps, at its mixture of
grandeur, invention, glass-filled baubles, and chaos.
At the far end of the area, is the city library. From public records to research into the
history of the city and the region itself, there is much one can learn at the city library. Many
stories tall, the building towers up over well-lit, tightly-packed cobblestone streets.
In the distance, the Redridge Mountains rise overhead in all their glory. At their peaks, one
can see the airships docking, landing, and flying off again under the banners of not only Alexandria
but many great nations.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Morgan Short pixy like half elf with fair skin 21m 21m
Olek A scruffy, disreputable dwarf in a breastplate. 0s 2h
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Llyranesi Embassy (LE) Artificer's Hall (AH) City Library (CL)
Arcanist Society (AS) Up Mountain Road (NE) West (W)
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Morgan
Her diminutive figure stands at a keen 4'10", including the amber wave of hair flowing not
much past her chin. Bound together by red bow, four long braids rise up from the crown of her head, and
entwine themselves together in a single, undulating cascade. Her petite form seems childlike upon first
glance, yet her witty laugh and smooth voice have far more polish than a mere babes. And those
sparkling emerald eyes have seen far too much adventure to belong to any but the most hard-bitten of
youths.
A long, deep blue, doublet adorns her with black buttons that hang undone. Long sleeves that
flare some at the wrist to keep her hands free for her work. Below the doublet is a red tunic of
cotton, black vines etch little flowers along the tailored garment that cuts in at the waist before
being belted just above the hips. A pair of woolen pants, dark blue to match the doublet, are upon her
legs, a flare to them as they breach over the tops of her calf-high black leather travel boots.
A cloak wraps about her as well, long and similar in its dark blue as the rest, a black metal
clasp holds it about her neck as the dance of mystical symbols runs down the edges as if forming some
shield against the elements.

Olek(#2638PXcks)

This thickset mountain dwarf is pretty disreputable-looking, with a scar across one cheek that
leave a line of puckered skin through his black beard, which is tucked through his leather belt. At
four feet, two inches, he's of average height for a dwarf, but rock solid, with broad shoulders and a
heavy build. The scar turns his lips into a rude sneer at the best of times, and a hideous snarl when
he scowls. His unkempt hair sticks out from under the rim of a bullet-shaped helmet with a barred
faceguard, and a well-made breastplate covers a blue woolen coat. A leather belt is buckled across his
hips, with a handaxe tucked into it, and he wears sturdy dark-blue pants, though they seem worn at the
knees. A leather backpack is worn on his back, and it is normally lightly laden, though a large dwarven
war axe is fastened to the side of the backpack, where he can retrieve it quickly in an emergency. A
heavy steel shield with some dwarfish heraldic symbols on it is fastened across his back.

Olek is out taking a walk despite the cold rain falling. He seems unhappy about it, but he also seems
to not be going anyplace. Almost sightseeing.

Morgan is sitting on a bench with a book in her lap. None of the rain is hitting her and the area with
in a few inchs of her is dry.

Olek will head on over and investigate that lack of rain thing. "You find a dry spot over here?" he
calls out by way of greeting. Social graces are something that happens to other people.

Morgan looks up and says as you can tell a shimmer of a thin field around her "I am cheating and using
a spell. But if the rian gets stronger I will be drenced with rain."

Olek ohs at using a spell. "I'm using a helmet, but it's clammy and I'll need to dry it thoroughly when
I get back to the Temple."

Seldan has arrived.

Seldan

Clean-cut, well-chiseled, and the very model of a Myrrish -- wizardly type? He's a whisker shy of six
feet tall, slender of build but by no means weak. His hair is straight and strawberry blonde, cut in
what looks like a military cut that has been allowed to grow out, which leaves it nearly falling into
ice-blue eyes. His features are even, straight, and strong, his smile genuine when it is there, his
hands callused both in places where a swordsman's would be and where a pen-pusher's would be. The
effect is that of an odd amalgamation of warrior and wizard, of dutiful son and rake and thoughtful
young man all at once, as of one who is neither fish nor fowl and a little of both.
His clothing reflects more of the same, too -- a swordsman's shirt under a set of light, silvery
chainmail. Over that, he wears what looks like an extension of a surcoat into a robe-like garment of
midnight blue, trimmed in silver thread, that falls just past the tops of his boots. Over all, on a
steel chain, the symbol of a crescent moon and a sphere within it. A swordbelt is anchored at his left
hip.

Morgan nods to Olek "Well I can dry you off now if you want but you will get wet again."

Olek turns a look on Morgan as he stands close to where she's sitting on a bench not getting rained on.

He looks defensive now about getting rained on. "Nono, the rain's perfectly good," he says. "I -like-
rain. You don't get it in the mine. Unless something has gone amazingly wrong."

Morgan takes that in "Mine flooding could be nasty from what I herd. I hardly go underground my self."
With that said she says a few arcane words and the force field around her expands to cover them both
"The underground places I do go to are mostly forgoten dungeons."

The doors to the city library open, and Seldan emerges, a satchel over one shoulder made of oiled
leather and firmly tied shut against the rain. He pauses just outside the door, pulls the hood of his
cloak up over his head, and trots easily down the stairs. He pauses again at the bottom, looking
curiously over at the pair having an idle conversation - in the rain. The confusion disappears when
Morgan erects the forcefield, though, and he inclines his head politely to both, with a wave.

Olek nods thoughtfully about forgotten dungeons. "That sounds pretty interesting. I've heard
adventurers go to the sewers under the city pretty often as well. I wouldn't mind trying that out. I
hear there are some pretty tough monsters to fight there. I think I could do a few rounds with a
monster." He nods gravely. Seldan gets a nod as well, as he exits the library.

Morgan gives a shudder at the mention of the sewers "I hate when the guild sends me there, no amout of
magical cleaning will make you feel clean." she gives Seldan a wave but contunes "But yes the
Adventures guild will send you there time to time."

"If it is monsters you would seek, the Guild is always looking for those bold enough to brave them."
Seldan's voice is heavily tinted with a Myrrish accent. "She," he nods to Morgan, "speaks truly,
though. The work is hard on the clothing, and after a time, no cleaning, spell or no, will get the
smell out." He adds an easy grin to that. "I am certain that the Guild alone keeps half the clothiers
in the city in business."

Olek mmm-hmms, "I'm thinking about joining up with them," he says of the Adventers Guild. "I probably
need some better gear. I see folks with magic swords and shiny armor. And I've got ... this." He raps
his old breastplate with a knuckle. "I ... might have mentioned in a prayer that I could use a magic
axe, but the Mithril Lady doesn't work that way, really. So I guess I'll make do until I can afford
good gear." Olek currently smells of wet dwarf, himself, and shrugs about the cleaning. "I'm not too
worried about that."

Morgan says as she looks to the Dwarven man "We all start out with nothing. And all the magic items I
have I made my self, well except this cloak. That I found on a adventure." She reaches for a potion on
her belt "But here is a gift to start you out. This one will heal wounds you have. Save it for when you
really need it."

"It is as she says," Seldan agrees, with an even broader smile for the mention of the Mithril Lady. "We
all begin with very little, and the Guild knows that. They will not pit you against a thing beyond your
skill, but - go as well-prepared as you may. We shall see how worried you are about cleaning, do you
find yourself beneath the remains of a shambling mound monster in a garbage heap." Something in his
tone says that he has had this joyous experience.

Olek holds a hand up to decline the offered potion. "Thank you, thank you, but I can't accept that. I'm
good, really. I just need to find more missions for the guild. I did a bit when I first got to town, so
I've got some gold, but there were some issues and the Temple suggest I stay on the grounds til things
cooled down. But I think things might've cooled down." As far as shambling mounds goes, he says, "That
sounds pretty ripe, yeah! Hawhaw!"

Morgan nods "Well When you want a magic item when you can affored it come to me, I give good rates. But
most mages in the city give about the same."

"Most are more worried about the plague than minor blow-ups, just now." Seldan's grin fades as he
remarks. "I think you should be safe in going back. The Guild is not immune. Be careful, though."

Olek nods to Morgan, "I will come ask, when I have more than a bit of gold to my name." He says to
Seldan, "Oh, I'm about as magical as a lump of coal. No worries between me and some magical plague. A
lot of the Hearthguards and Sentinels," the priests and paladins, "have come down with it. But I'm too
robust for it." More like no one wants much to do with him, but ...

Morgan looks to the magic guild "Crap talking about magic items I best tend to the one I am making my
self." She stands up and says "I am Morgan the guilds Loremaster and this field will stay here for
about 20 more minutes."

Morgan has disconnected.

All trace of smile has faded from Seldan's bearing and features. "Do not count on that. I am Seldan
Padaryn of Eluna's Silver Guard, and I wish you the best of luck, but I must be on my way. Her
blessings on your road." With that, the man turns and takes himself out of the square, hefting the
satchel over his shoulder.

Seldan has disconnected.

(Sometime later)

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=(* 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 --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Mikilos Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome. 20m 1h
Olek A scruffy, disreputable dwarf in a breastplate. 0s 6m
Svarshan Demons: Another name for spicy BBQ 5m 1h
Tenoc Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter 5m 1h
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Scene Logger by Svarshan(#499I)
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= 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)
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Olek has come outside the Temple at the behest of one of the mid-level clergy, who felt this was
somehow related to him. It seems a fellow has brought some crates in a cart marked for the Temple of
Althea. His name isn't mentioned specifically, but it's from his father, so they thought he should be
involved. So, here he is, involved. He winds up unloading it himself and carrying it into the Temple.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--(* A10: Temple of Althea *)=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The term 'marble temple' only holds up insofar as the temple's outer edifice is concerned.
Twin statues of Althea, each of them bearing gently glowing blue staves, provide welcome either side of
the entrance, a door which has never been closed in recent memory. A place of community and warmth, a
sense of warmth and welcome quickly overtakes most visitors upon entry.
Serrielite and Angorite devotees guard the outside entrances, while blue star-robed
Hearthguard wander just inside, performing and guiding various charitable tasks. One can even see a
smaller, more discrete entrance if one looks, from whence comes and go the Mourners of Vardama,
carrying their somber burdens.
Designed to be open and welcoming, the place is a bustle of family and community-centered
activity. A great, central oven serves the double duties of fireplace and food preparation on a grand
scale that makes the temple a favorite for gatherings. Althean worshippers and Hearthguards alike
tirelessly bake and cook for the less fortunate, while younger Hearthguards sit on comfortably
cushioned divans with worshippers and petitioners, dispensing advice and Althea's kind words. Wreaths
of herbs hang from the ceilings, giving a pleasant scent, while a pool fed by a small artificial
waterfall provides fresh water for bathing wounds or blessing of children and worshippers. A procession
of doors and halls lead off to various rooms. While many lead to places such as rooms, offices, and
libraries for the Hearthguard, there is also a well-known hospice, as well as the transient bunks, and
even counseling rooms for when a family member nears their end. This last area is overseen by
Hearthguard and Mourner alike, in respectful accordance with local customs.
EXTRAS: +view
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Kira A young blonde woman wearing simple robes. 28s 1h
Olek A scruffy, disreputable dwarf in a breastplate. 0s 15m
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Out (O)
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Kira

This young woman is of average to slight stature, and her quiet poise doesn't make her appear
any larger. What skin is exposed shows some weathering from sun and wind, but is relatively smooth.
Blonde hair falls to past her shoulders, though it is generally pulled back and gathered together by a
simple leather thong at the base of her skull. This exposes prominent ears that are only overshadowed
by the brightness of her blue eyes. Her remaining facial features are pleasant, but subdued, from
button nose to full lips and cheeks.

If the woman seems mostly unremarkable, her clothing is entirely so. She wears a simple
travelling robe of light gray cloth with a stylized rose dyed blue on the breast. A similar cloak worn
overtop in inclement weather. Well worn boots and the bottoms of tan breeches are visible at times
below the hem of the robe. The only visible possession is a large duffle carried over her right
shoulder.

Olek(#2638PXcks)

Olek has unloaded a wagon at the gate, and is carrying in two largish crates. One at a time, and with
the help of a paladin, he's not that buff. The crates brought inside, the label is thouroughly
examimed. It is a gift for the Temple, from Draz Stonesmasher, Olek's father.

Kira emerges from the temple proper, looking to have managed to take a few minutes for herself. Her
clothing and person are neat and clean, a shade better than after hours at the Soldier's Defense. Her
smile is wide yet grows wider when she spies a familiar face or three. "Hello. What is all that?"

Olek looks up, nods to Kira. "Looks like a package from my father," he explains. A runner has been sent
off to fetch a crowbar for opening the sealed crates, and appears before too long. When the crates are
opened, and the straw is cleared away, it's revealed to contain a gorgeous set of mithral full plate
armor: helmet, breastplate, sollerets, greaves, the lot. And a small box, besides.

"Oh? How wonderful!" Kira beams. "It's always nice to get packages from home." When the larger contents
are revealed, she nods. "It looks very nice, and very practical, too."

Olek nods to Kira as the fairly senior priest has taken charge and opened the smaller crate inside.
He's found a letter, and he reads it. "Well," he reads. "It looks like this gift has been left to the
Temple rather than to you, Olek. Unless you have taken the oaths of a Sentinel while none of us were
looking. Or a Hearthguard, of course," he adds with a bit of a chuckle. "It says here, that you may
claim it if you show any divine power at all. But if not, the donation is to the Temple." Olek looks
on, jaw kinda hanging.

Kira looks to the priest and blinks in surprise. Not necessarily bad surprise. "That is very generous
of him." She offers a "Thank you" to Olek, but adds, "I think he may be trying to encourage you. The
Healer would welcome your help, and much more than a suit of armor."

Olek grumbles, "That stupid father of mine. He thinks he can cheat me out of a birthright to punish me
for not choosing the path he set for me." He looks left, looks right. He glowers at the priest, and
then at Kira. "Oh, he's trying to encourage me all right," he complains, growing more and more
agitated. "He's been encouraging me all my life. That's why I came here to Alexandria, I got tired of
his sanctimonious encouragement. I've had enough encouragement to last a lifetime."

Kira's lips purse for a moment, though her smile doesn't go far. "I'm sure he means well, and just
wants to help with what he thinks is best for you." She is trying to encourage, herself, though less
precisely. "The choice is yours, though, and you should do what -you- think is best for you. I don't
think he'd think any different of you."

Olek says sourly to Kira, "Different? He couldn't think less of me if I stabbed the High Priest, spit
on the statue of the Mithril Lady, and ate breakfast out of the divine offering bowl." The priest who'd
read the letter points out, "It doesn't say anything about giving it to you later if you take up a
priestly role now. It's ... unfortunate, but it looks like this will be a donation to the Temple,
rather than a gift for you, Olek." He at least sounds sympathetic. He's seen the ring and amulet inside
the case also, and the workers have opened the second box, which contains an adamantine dwarven waraxe.
They have lifted it up and more than a few people are giving oooohs of appreciation.

"I'm sorry that the two of you aren't getting along well," Kira offers, unsure what else to say for a
moment. She knows he's upset (that's pretty obvious) and isn't aghast at the sacrilegeous
exagerrations.

Olek's eye is twitching pretty hard as the priest echoes Kira's sentiments, and his fist is clenching
and unclenching. "Gaaaaaah!" he shouts, and the axe is off his back a moment later, and he's looking
around for something to hit. Exactly the sort of chaotic behavior that explains pretty clearly why the
life of a paladin wasn't for him. The people that were closest to the crates and to Olek back off as he
raises the axe high over his head, and brings it down with a smash on the now-empty crate that had held
the adamantine waraxe. It's smashed pretty well, and ... wait, is that a faint nimbus around his axe?

Kira blinks and startles at the yell, and more, the weapon and smashing with it. She darts a few steps
closer to him. "Olek, please! It isn't the crate's doing, and someone could get hurt by accident."

Olek hacks the empty crate anyhow for another chop or two. At least he's not hurting /people/, anyhow,
and eventually he does stop the chopping. The crate is now only good for kindling, Olek in a rage
hacking at the thing was way too much for normal wood and straw. The priest watches without comment,
wearing a sympathetic expression, though it's turned thoughtful now.

"It's alright," Kira assures Olek, softly, reaching out a hand to try and place it on those on the
weapon. Not to remove them or it, but simply be present. "You're angry, but you don't need to be angry
at anyone or anything here."

Olek doesn't shake off the touch. He's quivering with rage, but he seems to be done lashing out for the
moment. "I'm not angry at anyone here," he snarls, his face twisted around the scar on his lip. "I'm
angry at my father, who probably sent this just to taunt me." The priest, however, has cast a spell,
and after watching Olek for a few moments, says, "It seems, though, that our Olek may meet his father's
rather restrictive qualifications after all." This brings Olek up short and he gives a, "Huh?" and a
blank look.

Kira is behind Olek in parsing the priest's words, then turn to show that she shares his confusion.
"Hmm? I don't understand, Hearthguard..."

Instead of replying to Kira, he says to Olek, "Just something I noticed. To confirm, I'll need you to
hand me that axe." The one Olek's holding? Olek will hand it over reluctantly, not sure what to make of
the priest's words, and not really wanting to hand over his axe. Even though he knows that there's no
one here to use it on. When he hands it over, the faint nimbus that had been around it fades, and the
priest looks closely at the axe, then hands it back. When Olek grips it, the aura returns.

Kira remains confused, though her curiosity seems to take hold over that. After all, watching may
easily sate all of that. "Oh my." The nimbus is now more recognized by her, since there's no smashing
going on to distract.

The old priest nods slowly, and says, "You see it now, Kira?" He explains, "Our Olek is manifesting his
celestial blood in his own way. I think," he says with a smile, "That certainly meets his father's
requirement for divine power." Olek huhs again, and the priest says simply, "The arms and armor, and
the items in this small box as well," he hands it over, "are yours, Olek. Use them well in Althea's
service." He will bow, and that settled, he will depart.

Kira blinks again. "Oh!" Further realization sets in. "Oh my." Her smile returns in full force. "That's
wonderful!" She looks to Olek, hoping that he is taking this as the good thing she thinks it is. Then
again, she may still be trying to fully understand what it is.

Olek is a bit slow on the uptake, but it's starting to dawn on him. As the priests words sink in, he
looks at the man, then at Kira, with an expression of disbelief. "My father's gift ... I can accept
it?" he asks incrdulously. A few of the helpers that were helping to unpack and carry it in nod as
well, and there are claps on his shoulders as he looks between everyone, overcome for a moment.

Kira adds her own hand to the congratulatory shoulder patting. "You did very well! Congratulations,
Olek."

Olek stumbles through the unfamiliar phrase, "Th-thank you." He takes a look at the crates of stuff.
There's a shield in there, also mithril, with Althea's heraldry ln it. Further investigation shows a
belt made of silver links, and an ornate carpet in the box also. "I'm not sure what to say," he says
after a moment.

"I think you said it right just now," Kira beams at him. "I don't think he was taunting you, afterall."

Olek nods slowly, and will get one of the fellows to help him carry it back to his cell. As far as his
father taunting him, he says, "Well. He may have meant it as one, but it has turned out in my favor. I
supppose I can be gracious in victory and send him a thank you letter. Oh yes," he says, and the grin
he grins may be a trifle malicious, "I will absolutey send him a thank you letter. He will be glad."

Kira gives a little nod, smile still shining. She didn't have anything to do with it, but that doesn't
diminish her delight in the moment. "I think he'd like that..." After a breath, she adds, with a hint
of mischief in her smile. "If he doesn't, then you'll annoy him back a little bit?"

Olek admits, "I think if I tell him I appreciate his gift of armor, he'll assume that I've renounced my
old ways and accepted a position as a Sentinel as he'd hoped. I'll have to write my letter carefully so
that he knows that I have not. It's possible he may be pleased anyhow, but if so, it'd be the first
time." And so saying, he will take as much as he can carry back to his tiny room, with some of the
other fellows following with the rest.

(Scene fades)

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-(* A07: Fernwood Pub *)--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high,
vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the
arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase,
winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant
an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of
coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals
from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over
this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.

The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set
under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are
deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized
individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated
against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony
and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood
was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.

EXTRAS: +view

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Acedia An ebon-skinned Goblin in leather armor. 2s 23m
Chay Rust-and-orange sith, with ash-toned scars 5s 2d
Olek A scruffy, disreputable dwarf in a breastplate. 0s 50m
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An Artifice-driven Boggle Board(#2909)
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Out (O)
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Chay

No brilliant or gemstone red, this rust-and-orange sith-makar nevertheless resembles fire.
The scars along his shoulders and back speak honestly of a harsh life. From his shoulders to midback,
the criss-cross of whip left ash-gray lines. Below, the lines scatter and shorten, turning to dashes,
then to dots further down and towards his tail. One could, if one were being poetic, call it an inverse
logs-and-ash pattern, but that's not what it is. Hard life, it says, in an open way. An honest way.
Around his neck is a silver necklace, depicting the Great Silver, with her wings outstretched, and her
muzzle drawn wide, depicting fangs. At his back, a bow and several arrows. Both hands are wrapped in
heavy tape, like a prize fighter's.

Acedia

Dressed in leathers, this little woman before you is a goblin.

Her skin is flat black in colour, and her hair and eyebrows are a dusky red. The small nose that has a
horizontal scar in the middle of it. The Gobbo's pupils are blood red, and shockingly, the sclera of
her eyes are pitch black. Her face is round with a pointed chin. Like most Gobbos, she has a mouthful
of sharp teeth and fangs, and she seems to smile quite often to show them off.

The studded leather she wears is snug to her form, with a variety of hooks and belts designed to carry
an arrangement of tools and weapons. Upon her back is a well worn backpack, stuffed full, with cooking
and camping implements hanging off of it. Strapped to the side of the backpack is a sturdy looking
case, shaped roughly like a middling sized stringed instrument.

Olek(#2638PXcks)

This thickset mountain dwarf is pretty disreputable-looking, with a scar across one cheek that
leave a line of puckered skin through his black beard, which is tucked through his leather belt. At
four feet, two inches, he's of average height for a dwarf, but rock solid, with broad shoulders and a
heavy build. The scar turns his lips into a rude sneer at the best of times, and a hideous snarl when
he scowls. His unkempt hair sticks out from under the rim of a bullet-shaped mithral helmet with a
barred faceguard. He wears mithral full plate armor with Althean sigils on the breastplate. A leather
belt is buckled across his hips, with a handaxe tucked into it, and some adventuring gear. A leather
backpack is worn on his back, and it is normally lightly laden, though a large adamantine dwarven war
axe is fastened to the side of the backpack, where he can retrieve it quickly in an emergency. A heavy
mithral shield with some Althean heraldic symbols on it is fastened across his back when he's not
weilding it.

Olek is here at a table, with several empty steins of beer and a couple plates of food now empty. He
has several pieces of paper before him, and a quill and pot of ink, and several wadded up pieces of
paper off to one side. He is attempting to think, which is not his strong suit.

"...one drinks this, sser?" Chay is at a nearby table. There is a tankard in front of him--a frothy,
tall pint with foam on top. It smells suspiciously of something the owner claims is both spicy and
pumpkin--but is strangely not.

He stares at it, as though it might bite him. His hands are clenched either side of it--and steeling
himself. Steeling himself, he looks over to Olek. "Sser, please forgive this one. This...one was given
a...do you know what this is?" he asks.

Erendriel has arrived.

The door opens with a bang, and a wee Gobbo struggles to close it again. But she manages. She huffs and
looks around the Pub. Seeing Chay, she begins moving towards him... her new boots clumping along
noisily. Which irritates her, by the expression on her face. "Chay!", she calls out, clumping faster
towards the Sith. Acedia peers at the drink on his table, and leans in closer to sniff at it. She
wrinkles her nose and recoils from it, hissing.

Olek looks up from attempting to write and looks over at Chay. "That looks like a pumpkin spice beer,
it does. It's ... mainly just beer, that tastes a bit off, but it's not awful. You can drink it, if you
like. Most people do. Mostly women, I expect, among humans and dwarves. I dunno how it is with Sith,
though. You can like it or not, as you see fit." He nods to Acedia, "Hello to you, too," he says a bit
flatly.

"...you are ssertain, sser?" Chay says and he looks at the tall, frothy glass as though...as though
Olek had suggested frogs might fall from the sky.

Well, in Alexandria they might.

"One has merely not encountered the flavor, ssers. I..." he says, and then, "Pardon this one. This one
thinks we have met, sser, though it was briefly. This one is Chay, of the Hunter-Caste," he says to
Olek.

Acedia turns to glance at Olek. "Oh, hi.", she says to the Khazad. "It looks like you're trying to
write something. Does your temple permit you to do that, even?", she wonders, sweetly. She turns back
to Chay. "Chay! Don't drink it. It smells like poison." The Gobbo makes a face, wrinkling her nose up.

Olek nods to Chay, and agrees, "We've met, or at least I've seen you around. I'm Olek Stonesmasher, of
the Temple of the Mithral Lady," he uses the dwarvish name for Althea. "I saw you around the Temple
District the other day, but too many things going on to say hello to everyone you see, don'cha know."

Acedia might notice his brand new and very mithrally armor and shield, which he wasn't wearing when she
saw him last. "They do," he says to her. "And more. I'm in a bit of good favor for the moment, so I'm
going to milk it for as long as it lasts," he explains.

Erendriel finally enters the place, having gotten lost on the way to going to the fire place, since she
always remembers that name. She looks around, tugs on her backpack straps, and consdiers what to eat.

Basil has arrived.

"Good favor, sser?" Chay asks. The sith-makar sits at a table near Olek. There is a tankard on the
table in front of him, and his hands are to either side of it.

The tankard is untouched.

Nearby is Acedia, who is probably squinting at Olek! Olek is at the nearby table, some papers in front
of him. Erendriel just arrived.

"Are they concerned that you might hurt yourself?", the Gobbo wonders of Olek. "All that blood rushing
to your brain, it's probably not used to it." She snorts and grins toothily, and then waves to
Erendriel. "Hello Erendriel!" She glances back to Chay, and moves to his side. "Chaaaay. Hello!", she
says in a sing-song voice, waving at the Sith.

Olek gathers up most of his papers and quill and pot, and he quaffs the last of his beer, punctuating
with a belch because he's all about classy. "Gonna get out of here, I think I'll be able to write home
better at the Temple. See you all later," he says, and departs. Olek spares a glower for Acedia before
he heads out, though.

(Fade out)

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The term 'marble temple' only holds up insofar as the temple's outer edifice is concerned.
Twin statues of Althea, each of them bearing gently glowing blue staves, provide welcome either side of
the entrance, a door which has never been closed in recent memory. A place of community and warmth, a
sense of warmth and welcome quickly overtakes most visitors upon entry.

Serrielite and Angorite devotees guard the outside entrances, while blue star-robed
Hearthguard wander just inside, performing and guiding various charitable tasks. One can even see a
smaller, more discrete entrance if one looks, from whence comes and go the Mourners of Vardama,
carrying their somber burdens.

Designed to be open and welcoming, the place is a bustle of family and community-centered
activity. A great, central oven serves the double duties of fireplace and food preparation on a grand
scale that makes the temple a favorite for gatherings. Althean worshippers and Hearthguards alike
tirelessly bake and cook for the less fortunate, while younger Hearthguards sit on comfortably
cushioned divans with worshippers and petitioners, dispensing advice and Althea's kind words. Wreaths

of herbs hang from the ceilings, giving a pleasant scent, while a pool fed by a small artificial
waterfall provides fresh water for bathing wounds or blessing of children and worshippers. A procession
of doors and halls lead off to various rooms. While many lead to places such as rooms, offices, and
libraries for the Hearthguard, there is also a well-known hospice, as well as the transient bunks, and
even counseling rooms for when a family member nears their end. This last area is overseen by
Hearthguard and Mourner alike, in respectful accordance with local customs.

EXTRAS: +view

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Elyanna An oddly complected woman in a raven feather cloak 3m 36m
Olek A scruffy, disreputable dwarf in a breastplate. 0s 39m
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Elyanna
Tall, lean and dark, she stands most of six feet, skin a rich, cinnabar tone with a splash of
carmine freckles across her cheeks and bridge of her nose. Her face is broad beneath her thick brows
and widows' peak, with well defined cheekbones and a firm jaw. Her demeanor is solemn around harrowed
steel eyes, though in the odd case of a smile, her teeth are those of a predator. Her hair is raven
black, bangs parted by a burnished steel band to frame her face, and the rest allowed to flow to her
beltline behind her. Should she speak, she does so in a contralto voice, her accent unmistakably that
of Bludgun.
An ankle length cloak of raven feathers, almost matching her hair but for texture, with a
fringed leather mantlet layered over that shrouds a chain shirt of Bludgun forging. The chain is
polished to a almost mirror shine with a black suit of cloth, reinforced at the joints with matte
leather, under. At her waist, a rectangular, fluted buckler hangs from a clasp on her crimson belt over
her left hip, the coils of a whip braided of various hues of hair, to the silver tresses of it's
popper, rides on her right on the scabbard of a Blod forged falchion, while a punching dagger that
curls like a fang is tucked at her back. Polished black leather and blued steel chased in copper make
up the gauntlet that sheaths her right forearm, matched by reinforced boots that fold back at the knee.
The closest she gets to accessories is the afformentioned steal headband, crafted to resemble a braided
leather band with a central 'strand' of polished bronze interlaced with the rest.

Olek(#2638PXcks)

This thickset mountain dwarf is pretty disreputable-looking, with a scar across one cheek that
leave a line of puckered skin through his black beard, which is tucked through his leather belt. At
four feet, two inches, he's of average height for a dwarf, but rock solid, with broad shoulders and a
heavy build. The scar turns his lips into a rude sneer at the best of times, and a hideous snarl when
he scowls. His unkempt hair sticks out from under the rim of a bullet-shaped mithral helmet with a
barred faceguard. He wears mithral full plate armor with Althean sigils on the breastplate. A leather
belt is buckled across his hips, with a handaxe tucked into it, and some adventuring gear. A leather
backpack is worn on his back, and it is normally lightly laden, though a large adamantine dwarven war
axe is fastened to the side of the backpack, where he can retrieve it quickly in an emergency. A heavy
mithral shield with some Althean heraldic symbols on it is fastened across his back when he's not
weilding it.

Olek has been training in the training yard, working out with the paladins as he's been doing in the
months since he's arrived. But there's a bit of zing in his step now that's new. Also, the mithral
fullplate is new, and gleams as he bashes his friends with practice weapons. Finally, the scrum is
over, and they all retire back to an outdoor table to quaff large tankards of water and talk about the
things that happened in the practice fight.

Making the rounds on an errand that in younger days she would set another soul to with a kiss of her
whip, the red woman in the raven feather cloak has a brief exchange with one of the paladins, a sort of
tense one, actually. A sealed parchment is given to the flinty eyed man, usually a rather jovial sort,
one who glares daggers at her as she starts to sweep the area to see if she can- ah, there! With even
footfalls, and only the sound of her armor moving with her limbs, Elyanna begins to approach the
dwarf's table wearing her best 'neutral-businesslike' expression.

Olek has just had an agreeable spar, and the water really hit the spot after, so he's only mildly terse
when Elyanna approaches. Mind you, he's mildly discourteous to the paladins, too. They just expect it
from him now. "What do ye want?" he asks the oruch woman.

Elyanna looks down her nose at the terse opening from the dwarf, but isn't terribly surprised, not
after the other night. She slowly pulls a sealed scroll case with some familiar heraldry on the cap out
of the satchel she'd needed for all the mail she's been carrying, "Nothing I'll find here." she replies
tartly, then holds the case out his way, "This is meant for you."

Olek ehs, letting the retort fall behind him, ignored. He's puzzled at the delivery. He'll take the
scroll, sees it's marked for him, and nods briely. "Mithril Lady's Blessings," he replies, a bit
automatically as he opens the scroll, ignoring the seals on it to see what it might say. Then he snaps
back, looks at the seals, and gives a weary sigh, casting the scroll aside. "More garbage from my
father, I'm afraid," he says sourly.

A brow arches, and the cloaked woman cants her head just a little bit. Not everyone here likes the
people who raised them, it seems. It isn't her business, really, it isn't, but, "Expensive garbage."
she muses.

Olek looks a bit guilty at the mention of expensive garbage. He's not shameless, just tactless. He
says, though, "He didn't -intend- it for me. He sent it so I might see it, and know that it's just one
more thing I can't have. The fact that I'm wearing it now is entirely a technicality that was outside
his ability to predict." He huffs defensively.
Olek adds, "In any event, I sent a proper thank you letter, he didn't need to taunt me back."

"It's important." a vaguery based on a mysterious 'it' that has a Dwarf of means sending pricey mail to
another. Elyanna shrugs, "Spite soothes disappointment. I half expected Khazad to be above such sport."

Olek grumps at Elyanna, "You don't know my father, or you'd have expected the scroll to explode in
bloody screaming," he says sourly. "He hasn't approved of a thing I've done since I can remember, and
I've got little enough love left for the old tightarse. I marched to his tune for forty years. I'm done
marching to it. At least here I don't have to hear how big a disappointment I am." One of the other
paladins picks up the scroll, glances at it, and passes it to a dwarf, who peers at it a bit longer,
eyebrows lifting. He hands it back to Olek, and says, "You ought to read it."

Elyanna actually laughs at that, "That sounds familiar!" she concedes. She sobers quickly, though and
actually seems unsure about something. She even fidgets a little as she considers her peculiar....
paternal situation, "My father is vexed by-" and then the other dwarf butts in with the proofread
scroll. He didn't read it the first time?

The first time Olek read it, he got as far as the From line and tossed it aside. Now with the advice,
he humphs and reads. By the time he's done the short letter, he's kind of cowed. "Well," he says after
a minute. He signs, lifts his eyes skyward. "You still do miracles, then. I thank you for this one."
And for a wonder, he sounds kinda sincere.

Elyanna looks at the second dwarf as Olek starts to commune, but it isn't long before her attention
returns his way.

Olek explains to Elyanna, "It seems my father's ... he hasn't yet come to grips with my decision. But
he respects it, at least. That's a first, by itself. Approval's a bit much to ask, I think."

Elyanna nods slowly, "I... understand." she concedes awkwardly, looking sidelong off at some patch of
dirt or other for a moment, "My father is still... out of sorts with how my life turned out."

Olek nods gravely. "I think you've come a lot farther than I did when you left your family's ways. I
don't expect there's any easy reconciliation for you?"

Elyanna's bark of laughter is mirthless and kind of bleak, "I..." she looks around at the paladins,
some of whom are giving her the eyeball, "Was apparantly taken when I was very young. My father's enemy
raised me to be..." She parts her cloak to reveal the braided whip riding on her falchion scabbard,
"everything my true family abhors."

Olek eyes the whip, but says nothing, though a few of the paladins will comment to each other. "Well,"
he says. "You're here now, and that's not a bad thing. And I raised myself to be something my father
abhored, but it seems he's ... not as intransigent as I'd once believed. There's hope for him yet, I
supppose. So. Would your father not approve of what you are now? Then dismiss him as I had. Be true to
yourself, and damn the rest."

"I do not know." Elyanna confesses simply, "My mother is the one who found me." She coughs behind her
hand for a moment, spares a moment to check said hand, then, "Something came up after we arrived here,
and I have not been with her, since."

Olek hrms at that. "Well, if you can seek her out and ask her, then do so. And if your father is close,
maybe it will be that you can visit him as well. If you like, I will stand by you, if you think he may
... overreact?"

The red woman considers the Dwarf's offer for a time, perhaps humbled, perhaps honorably acknowledging
the offer, she bows her head for a couple of beats, then, "I would... perhaps need you to take them a
message. There are other factors at work and I... can not ignore them."

Olek admits, "I know nothing of your situation other than what you've told me, so I'll take your word
on it. That said, I'll take 'em what message you need, if you write it up and seal it." He nods.

"I shall have something composed shortly." Elyanna returns, then, mayhap remembering they never
actually exchanged names, she bows some and corrects the oversight with, "I am Elyanna von Diesel and,
you have my gratitude."

Olek nods curtly. He always forgets niceties, himself. "Olek Stonesmasher," he introduces himself.
"I'll do what I can for you, Elyanna." He adds, "Normally that's something involving mayhem, but I'll
do what I can."

"Mayhem cures many ills." she observes, then, "Not all, alas, but..." she shrugs, what can ya do?
Elyanna looks around some more, then, "I should away, now, though, I've more messages to deliver. Until
next we meet, sir."

Olek nods curtly to Elyanna. "Carry on, then," he says, "and come see me with your message when you're
ready." He quaffs more water, and the paladins seem ready for another round of fighting, so they'll all
retake the field, Olek with them.

(Fade Out)