LINES-World of Magic
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
Israelite9191
You should be reading
Proclomation of His Majesty King Menelik
The royal office of his majesty, King Menelik, king of Abyssinia, Yemen, Sinai, and Israel, makes the following decree. It is by the King's order that a breding program for the mighty rocs be instated. These majestic birds serve our country well and deserve this new effort to further their species. All of the priests of the Great Lord in Aksum will begin to work on spells to increase the roc population. It is the goal of His Majesty that these brave birds may spread the culture of the people of the highlands to all worthy nations. This proclamation has the seal of King Menelik, King of Abyssinia, Yemen, Sinai, and Israel, all praises granted unto his name.********
Could I get some more rocs for htis? Thank you.
Israelite9191
You should be reading
Rocs are birds, vampires are bassically magically-mutated humans. I think it is a little more likely tht one would be able to initiate a breeding program for birds than humans.
Besides, you gotta write a sory if you want a bonus.
Besides, you gotta write a sory if you want a bonus.
Orders:
2 Gold towards trade route w/ Ur
1 gold to raising the economy.
Send our troops out to capture the Great Indian Desert to our southeast. If resistance is met, have 10 of our firelords burn the sand into giant glass sheets, blinding the enemy forces and allowing our troops to slaughter them as they are confused.
2 Gold towards trade route w/ Ur
1 gold to raising the economy.
Send our troops out to capture the Great Indian Desert to our southeast. If resistance is met, have 10 of our firelords burn the sand into giant glass sheets, blinding the enemy forces and allowing our troops to slaughter them as they are confused.
The Strategos
Thanatos
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2002
- Messages
- 1,175
Spray shot up as a wave hit a wooden obstacle. Its momentum carrying it upward, water shot up, white foam at its top, before gravity reclaimed it, causing it to sink back into the ocean. Immediately another wave followed the first, with similar results. Unfeeling, the wooden obstacle moved onward, cutting the water in front of it as it moved with determined speed. Miles away from land of any kind, only one thing would spurn the mighty ocean with such a quiet arrogance, a ship of Karthage.
If any nation had shipwrights who could compare with Karthages, Karthage has not met them. Honed by centuries of building warships to fight the pirates that plagued them and of building merchant ships to ply the seas, Karthaginians turned their craft into an art form.
This particular craft was a Karthaginian merchant vessel. Unlike their more war-like cousins, the merchant vessel was rounder, less slender than the sleek warships. Though this cut down on her speed and maneuverability, she gained a much larger cargo space, allowing her to carry more trade goods from Karthage to the outer edges of the world. Made of the finest wood, from the side the Karthaginian ship looked like nothing more than a fools smile. The prow and stern jutted straight up, with the middle of the ship curving downward. Across the top the ship was surrounded by rails to help protect an unwary sailor from falling into the sea as well as to protect any cargo that might be stored on the upper deck. The ship itself had two decks, the lower one being reserved almost exclusively for cargo and provisions while the crew slept on the upper deck in all but the worst weather. To the prow was lashed several large clay amphora which contained the storage of potable water for the crew.
Sticking out of the middle of the ship like some lone tree was the mast. Two beams were lashed horizontally to this mast. These beams were not parallel with each other, instead the top one curved slightly downward near the ends while the bottom one curved slightly upward at the ends. Attached to these two beams was a sail. Made of a type of canvas, it had for broad, red stripes running horizontally separated by slightly narrower white stripes. Sticking out from the sides of the ship like bug legs were fourteen oars, seven on each side to provide extra propulsion if needed. Attached to the stern were two more oars. Unlike the others, these had a longer head, shaped in an oval shape. These two oars were used to steer the ship.
On the deck Captain Fierelus alternated his worried gaze between the skies and the ocean around him. Above him ominous dark clouds were gathering, coming together as if a malevolent deity were shepherding them together, molding them in his hands like clay. Around him waves were starting to gather in strength, the crests getting larger and larger, as the sea boiled around the ship as if someone were vigorously stirring a large pot. Wind screamed around the ship, causing the sail to jerk impatiently at the tethers holding it in place. Slowly large drops of water started to fall from the sky. Hitting the deck, they left a small dark stain where they landed.
Fierelus cursed under his breath, no doubt his ship was in a bad situation. From years of seafaring, he knew that the approaching storm would be bad, maybe even a shipkiller storm. There was no land anywhere nearby. A couple of days ago Fierelus had stopped hugging the coast to set out in open waters. For the ships of most nations, this would be considered foolhardy at best, suicidal at worst. Without land, they would have no referent point for their direction, perhaps dooming them to a watery lostness. Without land, they would be at the mercy of the elements, unable to escape from a vicious storm. For the seafarers of Karthage, it was not suicidal but a calculated risk. For centuries they had been carefully mapping out the currents below them and the stars above them. With his meticulously drawn and fanatically guarded charts, Karthaginian vessels could quickly discover where they were if blown of course, and more importantly, how to get back on course. The only danger for them, then, was storms like this one. Even against such as these, however, Karthage captains had some protection.
Springing into action, Fierelus began shouting orders. Take down that sail before it tears away the mast! Stow those oars! This is a storm were going to have to turtle in and wait out boys. And by El, someone get that piss-bag that passes itself off as an aquamancer up here now!
A few minutes later, the sailor he had sent off came back. Behind him walked, no, lurched, a middle-aged man in tattered aquamancer robes. Though it was barely midday, by the aquamancers red nose, Fierelus could tell he had already been engaged in his favorite pastime for some time now.
Deep down, Fierelus knew that he was lucky to have an aquamancer on board at all. The best and most promising were quickly snatched up by the Imperial Navy or Army. The rest pretty much sold their services to the highest bidder, which meant that only the richest merchants in the most lucrative trade routes got one. Though they were expensive, if one could manage to acquire the services of one, then you were set for life. With an aquamancer aboard, you were guaranteed a swift current to speed you along, cutting down your sailing time dramatically, allowing you to be able to make more trips. You also severely cut down the risk involved, as your ship was unlikely to get caught in rough seas and any pirates you would meet you could outrun.
This aquamancer Fierelus had met in some North African slum. Fierelus was told that he had been sold into slavery for the failure to pay his drinking tab. Fierelus had taken a gamble and had bought him from his master. If he proved to be even a mediocre aquamancer, Fierelus investment would pay off many times over. If he proved to be utterly worthless, then Fierelus had gained himself a rower for the journey and could sell him off at their next stop. Their first day sailing, the aquamancer had stood around, surrounded by a skeptical crew. As they watched, he summoned up a small current. Oh, it wasnt a large current, he would never find work with a rich merchant using his skills, but it was enough to cut a day or maybe two from Fierelus journey, and that was enough he reckoned to make this aquamancer worthwhile to keep.
Now, as forked lighting illuminated the sky, casting strange shadows everywhere, Fierelus walked over to the aquamancer. Yelling over the thunder, Fierelus cried Its time to earn your keep aquamancer, I want you to make sure that we arent capsized by the waves this storm is kicking up.
The aquamancer looked skeptically at the sea around him. Master, you must realize, I am merely one poor man, this savage storm, even an aquamancer serving on a warship would be hard-pressed to
Whatever else he was about to say was suddenly cut off as Fierelus grabbed him by his throat. Lifting him off his feet, Fierelus growled at him. You will calm these seas around us, or by Baals beard, I am going to throw you overboard to see if a sacrifice will calm the sea god.
Placing him down, Fierelus scowled at a visibly shaken aquamancer. Gulping several times, the aquamancer finally nodded. Satisfied, Fierelus turned to another sailor. You there, make sure this man has what he needs to do his magic, and hop to it! A sudden lurch caused by a giant wave threw the aquamancer into Fierelus. With a growl he picked up the aquamancer and dragged him to the side of the ship. Taking a piece of rope, he tied the aquamancer to the ship, lashing his arms and legs to the railing. Without another thought to the aquamancer, Fierelus turned around, bellowing orders, doing all he could to make sure his ship made it through the storm in one piece.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, though the storm around them continued to rage, the seas became calmer. Though they still crashed against the boat, shooting up spray, no longer did they regularly come over the boat. A few giant waves still caused the boat to occasionally lurch like a drunken sailor, but no longer was it a wild stallion, bucking around without purpose. As eventually the suns rays broke through the clouds, dissipating them like the morning dew, Fierelus nodded in satisfaction to himself. Taking a flask from one of his pockets, he walked over to where the aquamancer remained, still tied to the ships rail.
His head was held low, his shaggy hair obscuring his face. His body strained downward against the bonds that held him. Water slowly dripped from his hair, causing small puddles to form under him. Cutting him free, the limp body of the aquamancer fell to the deck. Fierelus turned him over and pinched his nose, causing his mouth to open. Sticking the mouth of the flask in the aquamancers mouth, he tipped it back, pouring the contents out. The aquamancers eyes flew open as he gagged, shooting spray out of his mouth as he started to violently cough. Fierelus laughed. Youre all right, aquamancer, you know that? Maybe Ill keep you around. The only answer the aquamancer gave was grabbing the flask and taking a long pull. Fierelus continued to laugh as he walked away, leaving the aquamancer to his reward.
If any nation had shipwrights who could compare with Karthages, Karthage has not met them. Honed by centuries of building warships to fight the pirates that plagued them and of building merchant ships to ply the seas, Karthaginians turned their craft into an art form.
This particular craft was a Karthaginian merchant vessel. Unlike their more war-like cousins, the merchant vessel was rounder, less slender than the sleek warships. Though this cut down on her speed and maneuverability, she gained a much larger cargo space, allowing her to carry more trade goods from Karthage to the outer edges of the world. Made of the finest wood, from the side the Karthaginian ship looked like nothing more than a fools smile. The prow and stern jutted straight up, with the middle of the ship curving downward. Across the top the ship was surrounded by rails to help protect an unwary sailor from falling into the sea as well as to protect any cargo that might be stored on the upper deck. The ship itself had two decks, the lower one being reserved almost exclusively for cargo and provisions while the crew slept on the upper deck in all but the worst weather. To the prow was lashed several large clay amphora which contained the storage of potable water for the crew.
Sticking out of the middle of the ship like some lone tree was the mast. Two beams were lashed horizontally to this mast. These beams were not parallel with each other, instead the top one curved slightly downward near the ends while the bottom one curved slightly upward at the ends. Attached to these two beams was a sail. Made of a type of canvas, it had for broad, red stripes running horizontally separated by slightly narrower white stripes. Sticking out from the sides of the ship like bug legs were fourteen oars, seven on each side to provide extra propulsion if needed. Attached to the stern were two more oars. Unlike the others, these had a longer head, shaped in an oval shape. These two oars were used to steer the ship.
On the deck Captain Fierelus alternated his worried gaze between the skies and the ocean around him. Above him ominous dark clouds were gathering, coming together as if a malevolent deity were shepherding them together, molding them in his hands like clay. Around him waves were starting to gather in strength, the crests getting larger and larger, as the sea boiled around the ship as if someone were vigorously stirring a large pot. Wind screamed around the ship, causing the sail to jerk impatiently at the tethers holding it in place. Slowly large drops of water started to fall from the sky. Hitting the deck, they left a small dark stain where they landed.
Fierelus cursed under his breath, no doubt his ship was in a bad situation. From years of seafaring, he knew that the approaching storm would be bad, maybe even a shipkiller storm. There was no land anywhere nearby. A couple of days ago Fierelus had stopped hugging the coast to set out in open waters. For the ships of most nations, this would be considered foolhardy at best, suicidal at worst. Without land, they would have no referent point for their direction, perhaps dooming them to a watery lostness. Without land, they would be at the mercy of the elements, unable to escape from a vicious storm. For the seafarers of Karthage, it was not suicidal but a calculated risk. For centuries they had been carefully mapping out the currents below them and the stars above them. With his meticulously drawn and fanatically guarded charts, Karthaginian vessels could quickly discover where they were if blown of course, and more importantly, how to get back on course. The only danger for them, then, was storms like this one. Even against such as these, however, Karthage captains had some protection.
Springing into action, Fierelus began shouting orders. Take down that sail before it tears away the mast! Stow those oars! This is a storm were going to have to turtle in and wait out boys. And by El, someone get that piss-bag that passes itself off as an aquamancer up here now!
A few minutes later, the sailor he had sent off came back. Behind him walked, no, lurched, a middle-aged man in tattered aquamancer robes. Though it was barely midday, by the aquamancers red nose, Fierelus could tell he had already been engaged in his favorite pastime for some time now.
Deep down, Fierelus knew that he was lucky to have an aquamancer on board at all. The best and most promising were quickly snatched up by the Imperial Navy or Army. The rest pretty much sold their services to the highest bidder, which meant that only the richest merchants in the most lucrative trade routes got one. Though they were expensive, if one could manage to acquire the services of one, then you were set for life. With an aquamancer aboard, you were guaranteed a swift current to speed you along, cutting down your sailing time dramatically, allowing you to be able to make more trips. You also severely cut down the risk involved, as your ship was unlikely to get caught in rough seas and any pirates you would meet you could outrun.
This aquamancer Fierelus had met in some North African slum. Fierelus was told that he had been sold into slavery for the failure to pay his drinking tab. Fierelus had taken a gamble and had bought him from his master. If he proved to be even a mediocre aquamancer, Fierelus investment would pay off many times over. If he proved to be utterly worthless, then Fierelus had gained himself a rower for the journey and could sell him off at their next stop. Their first day sailing, the aquamancer had stood around, surrounded by a skeptical crew. As they watched, he summoned up a small current. Oh, it wasnt a large current, he would never find work with a rich merchant using his skills, but it was enough to cut a day or maybe two from Fierelus journey, and that was enough he reckoned to make this aquamancer worthwhile to keep.
Now, as forked lighting illuminated the sky, casting strange shadows everywhere, Fierelus walked over to the aquamancer. Yelling over the thunder, Fierelus cried Its time to earn your keep aquamancer, I want you to make sure that we arent capsized by the waves this storm is kicking up.
The aquamancer looked skeptically at the sea around him. Master, you must realize, I am merely one poor man, this savage storm, even an aquamancer serving on a warship would be hard-pressed to
Whatever else he was about to say was suddenly cut off as Fierelus grabbed him by his throat. Lifting him off his feet, Fierelus growled at him. You will calm these seas around us, or by Baals beard, I am going to throw you overboard to see if a sacrifice will calm the sea god.
Placing him down, Fierelus scowled at a visibly shaken aquamancer. Gulping several times, the aquamancer finally nodded. Satisfied, Fierelus turned to another sailor. You there, make sure this man has what he needs to do his magic, and hop to it! A sudden lurch caused by a giant wave threw the aquamancer into Fierelus. With a growl he picked up the aquamancer and dragged him to the side of the ship. Taking a piece of rope, he tied the aquamancer to the ship, lashing his arms and legs to the railing. Without another thought to the aquamancer, Fierelus turned around, bellowing orders, doing all he could to make sure his ship made it through the storm in one piece.
Gradually, almost imperceptibly, though the storm around them continued to rage, the seas became calmer. Though they still crashed against the boat, shooting up spray, no longer did they regularly come over the boat. A few giant waves still caused the boat to occasionally lurch like a drunken sailor, but no longer was it a wild stallion, bucking around without purpose. As eventually the suns rays broke through the clouds, dissipating them like the morning dew, Fierelus nodded in satisfaction to himself. Taking a flask from one of his pockets, he walked over to where the aquamancer remained, still tied to the ships rail.
His head was held low, his shaggy hair obscuring his face. His body strained downward against the bonds that held him. Water slowly dripped from his hair, causing small puddles to form under him. Cutting him free, the limp body of the aquamancer fell to the deck. Fierelus turned him over and pinched his nose, causing his mouth to open. Sticking the mouth of the flask in the aquamancers mouth, he tipped it back, pouring the contents out. The aquamancers eyes flew open as he gagged, shooting spray out of his mouth as he started to violently cough. Fierelus laughed. Youre all right, aquamancer, you know that? Maybe Ill keep you around. The only answer the aquamancer gave was grabbing the flask and taking a long pull. Fierelus continued to laugh as he walked away, leaving the aquamancer to his reward.
People, I'm sorry I have to do this, but I've given you plenty of warning. ORDERS POSTED ON THE THREAD WILL BE NOT BE ACCEPTED!!! It's frustrating for me to search all of the pages since the last update (I have dial up. sloooooowwwwwwwwwww), and you lose the element of surprise. Okay, so some of you may not want that, but please, for me, PM all orders from now on.
Disenfrancised
Beep Beep
Hey Iggy I'm writting orders now but it will take a while to finsih (they're not long it just that I have 2 functional fingers right now and 3 days in hospital have really taken it out of me)
Erik Mesoy
Core Tester / Intern
5 hours left of Friday...
Two Views on the Logrus Vat
From the journal of a merchant:
Today I visited the dock. It is a pleasant place; the boards are still fresh and the ships smell of salt wood rather than rotting fish, as I expect they soon will. They are bringing goods to the Hyperboreans. For the moment, we have only received foodstuffs and materials, and we have sent much of the same. I am informed by a reliable source that we sent a quantity of Trafe on the first ship, however.
I am keeping my purse turned for the moment, however. The Palace is always in need of commodities; here I file the list of what I was able to license to them in the past month.
From the journal of an overseeing mage:
Date: First Sword of Rain-month (August)
I am honored - I am being promoted to work on the construction that I only heard rumors of before! For decades, of course, I have known of the great work being undertaken by the most senior mages, and seen our empire fuel it. As the Palace purchased resources, our people staked claims on more and more lands. The Palace had a purse that seemed endless, and it would always buy more materials. So Elgovia grew, as people yearned for the frontier, where they could start their new works, and Elgovia became rich, as merchants bought commodities from the outlying regions, transported them, and sold them to the Palace. It has been a pillar of our empire's growth, and now I am to see it.
I am warned that I will lose my time. What is meant by this will surely become clear tomorrow.
Date: Second Lance of Wolf-month (November)
It seems as though only a week has passed under the construction of the Logrus Vat. But near a quarter of the year is gone! Let me chronicle my impressions:
First I was met by Grandmaster Tusutiro, blessed is his name! He told me that years might pass before I became tired here, and I should be sure to take frequent pauses in the work. He related to me the lore of the Vat - it is a nexus for Chaos, and as such, reality bends around it. He and his predecessors have worked for hundreds of years containing these bends. "We could have completed the Vat eighty years ago", he said, "but the spillovers would have warped everything within ten miles. Imagine living in the midst of an army of Ripples." I shuddered at the thought.
Then I was there. I saw the pit that was dug out of the ground. It was a mile wide and equally deep. This was impossible, of course, as our Palace is barely half a mile, and this pit was contained within the main grounds.
There were walkways - almost as sturdy as the main roads. They traveled down into the pit, and one could stretch out a hand and touch the surface of the excavation. It is earth, smoothed until it is perfectly flat, and covered with glass fully three handspans thick in some places. My mind recoiled from the artisanry spent here.
As a mage, I was directed to an area above the center. I passed men carrying resources to strengthen the walkways, men repairing a path while standing on its neighbor, men carrying shards of glass, men carrying fuel for fires, men commanding other men every way. At last I found my way to a platform where I recognized several of my fellows. The platform was busy, but still relatively empty. Couriers ran in with phials of Trafe, stacked them in high piles, and left with gold being handed out by Tusutiro.
"You're here!" he boomed in his genial voice. "That makes a score of us!"
I was directed to link with the other magi present; under Tusutiro's guidance we opened a hole in reality. It led to what I can only call a storage area. Tusutiro poured phial after phial into the hole, seemingly unaffected by the raw magic that should have transformed him irrevocably. After a handful of minutes, he had poured in a hundred phials, and declared a pause.
My time continued to be spent in this fashion for a while. I would link with various other mages, Tusutiro would pour Trafe into the hole, and he would hand out riches to everyone.
I visited the stalls at the edge of the pit frequently. Enterprising merchants were earning gold hand over fist, but no one paid the prices any heed. Anything that merchants could provide was for sale.
And now - now I have a week of memories, and I've gained enough gold to last me for years, but I seem to have lost three months somewhere. I must ask myself: Is this worth it? Should I continue to give up my time this way?
And, inevitably, I find myself answering in the affirmative. To work on the Vat is heavenly - it is all I have dreamed of, and I care not if my life passes swiftly. It is a good life, both for the magic I see, and what the stalls have to offer.
I suppose I will wait a week before returning, though. But I must return. The amount of Trafe is supposedly reaching a critical point. Tusutiro will invert the hole and pour it out, and by then the glass covering will have to be finished.
Is he mad? Small quantities of Trafe have their phials replaced every few weeks, and he seeks to store such great quantities in one place?
Yet I must return. I am compelled. Not by magic, but by my will. There is so much I must see, and the stalls have everything I could wish for.
Side Note: Map of the Known World,
as explored by Elgovian people.
Two Views on the Logrus Vat
From the journal of a merchant:
Today I visited the dock. It is a pleasant place; the boards are still fresh and the ships smell of salt wood rather than rotting fish, as I expect they soon will. They are bringing goods to the Hyperboreans. For the moment, we have only received foodstuffs and materials, and we have sent much of the same. I am informed by a reliable source that we sent a quantity of Trafe on the first ship, however.
I am keeping my purse turned for the moment, however. The Palace is always in need of commodities; here I file the list of what I was able to license to them in the past month.
- Twenty workers (hired muscle)
- Ten workers (carpenters and masons)
- Five glassblowers
- Eighty spoons of Trafe (from my private reservoir)
- Three overseers
- Five hundred footfeet of wood
- Two hundred pileweights of silicane sand
- Two hundred pileweights of smooth stone
From the journal of an overseeing mage:
Date: First Sword of Rain-month (August)
I am honored - I am being promoted to work on the construction that I only heard rumors of before! For decades, of course, I have known of the great work being undertaken by the most senior mages, and seen our empire fuel it. As the Palace purchased resources, our people staked claims on more and more lands. The Palace had a purse that seemed endless, and it would always buy more materials. So Elgovia grew, as people yearned for the frontier, where they could start their new works, and Elgovia became rich, as merchants bought commodities from the outlying regions, transported them, and sold them to the Palace. It has been a pillar of our empire's growth, and now I am to see it.
I am warned that I will lose my time. What is meant by this will surely become clear tomorrow.
Date: Second Lance of Wolf-month (November)
It seems as though only a week has passed under the construction of the Logrus Vat. But near a quarter of the year is gone! Let me chronicle my impressions:
First I was met by Grandmaster Tusutiro, blessed is his name! He told me that years might pass before I became tired here, and I should be sure to take frequent pauses in the work. He related to me the lore of the Vat - it is a nexus for Chaos, and as such, reality bends around it. He and his predecessors have worked for hundreds of years containing these bends. "We could have completed the Vat eighty years ago", he said, "but the spillovers would have warped everything within ten miles. Imagine living in the midst of an army of Ripples." I shuddered at the thought.
Then I was there. I saw the pit that was dug out of the ground. It was a mile wide and equally deep. This was impossible, of course, as our Palace is barely half a mile, and this pit was contained within the main grounds.
There were walkways - almost as sturdy as the main roads. They traveled down into the pit, and one could stretch out a hand and touch the surface of the excavation. It is earth, smoothed until it is perfectly flat, and covered with glass fully three handspans thick in some places. My mind recoiled from the artisanry spent here.
As a mage, I was directed to an area above the center. I passed men carrying resources to strengthen the walkways, men repairing a path while standing on its neighbor, men carrying shards of glass, men carrying fuel for fires, men commanding other men every way. At last I found my way to a platform where I recognized several of my fellows. The platform was busy, but still relatively empty. Couriers ran in with phials of Trafe, stacked them in high piles, and left with gold being handed out by Tusutiro.
"You're here!" he boomed in his genial voice. "That makes a score of us!"
I was directed to link with the other magi present; under Tusutiro's guidance we opened a hole in reality. It led to what I can only call a storage area. Tusutiro poured phial after phial into the hole, seemingly unaffected by the raw magic that should have transformed him irrevocably. After a handful of minutes, he had poured in a hundred phials, and declared a pause.
My time continued to be spent in this fashion for a while. I would link with various other mages, Tusutiro would pour Trafe into the hole, and he would hand out riches to everyone.
I visited the stalls at the edge of the pit frequently. Enterprising merchants were earning gold hand over fist, but no one paid the prices any heed. Anything that merchants could provide was for sale.
And now - now I have a week of memories, and I've gained enough gold to last me for years, but I seem to have lost three months somewhere. I must ask myself: Is this worth it? Should I continue to give up my time this way?
And, inevitably, I find myself answering in the affirmative. To work on the Vat is heavenly - it is all I have dreamed of, and I care not if my life passes swiftly. It is a good life, both for the magic I see, and what the stalls have to offer.
I suppose I will wait a week before returning, though. But I must return. The amount of Trafe is supposedly reaching a critical point. Tusutiro will invert the hole and pour it out, and by then the glass covering will have to be finished.
Is he mad? Small quantities of Trafe have their phials replaced every few weeks, and he seeks to store such great quantities in one place?
Yet I must return. I am compelled. Not by magic, but by my will. There is so much I must see, and the stalls have everything I could wish for.
Side Note: Map of the Known World,
as explored by Elgovian people.
