RhyDin City, for its great many functions, had served one in particular over the centuries, perhaps moreso even than a sanctuary - a fresh start. Those who lost their way into the cross-realms world, deliberately or by accident, often found themselves with no burden from their past except their mere memory. Little things like unpaid loans and taxes, and bigger like scandal, murder, and acts of the most destructive intent, were very easily left behind in the home countries of these the newcomers, allowing them to cut boldly in a new direction completely unhindered, or to carry on with just as little hindrance their previous habits.
"Come in, come in - be quick about it!"
Such was the case of Dr. Iellis Havendaro, a promising (and now outcast) scientist from Sulanie, who hurried the little street urchin into his home and laboratory in the depths of the West End. The boy carried a basket with a strange-looking blanket over it, and as the door slammed shut, he lifted the blanket....but the doctor slapped his hands and tsk'ed.
"No! What did I tell you about that?"
"But..."
"No, put the basket down over there, I'll have your money for you in just a moment. Shoo, shoo!"
Havendaro was thin, almost emaciated, with a pinched and agitated look to his face and a prominent widow's peak with a shock of silver hair. He was frowning to himself as he picked through his wallet - the strange burns had shown up on this boy's hands, too, as they also had with his colleague years ago...
"I'm afraid this is all I have for you, and the last you'll be getting from me," the doctor said, throwing the pouch at the boy's chest. It dropped onto the floor and he bent to hastily scoop it all up.
"But I thought you said..."
"I say lots of things and haven't the time to keep track of them. Now SHOO!" The boy was pushed out the door with a broom, and the door slammed shut behind him.
Funds were getting tight again, Havendaro was well aware. His research was dangerous, mysterious, and also expensive, and writing grants for the local university was paying the bills about as well as he thought it would. The Dissident Barons had funded his work in the past, but then the King uncovered the plot, leaving many of the Barons without their heads, and Havendaro alone in RhyDin, nearly penniless, with only his notebooks and an obsession with rediscovering the secrets the Master Race had known centuries before — with which they had levelled whole civilizations!
Such a discovery would make him famous beyond his wildest dreams....but first, to see his dream through, he would have to find a benefactor.
* * *
In the month of January, 2009 C.A., Saint Percy's Free Hospital had eight homeless childreen die in their facility. One was overfed after being malnourished for an extended period of time, and the other was too far gone from tuberculosis to be aided by their healers, but six perished after a strange fever with the symptom of an even stranger skin condition - burns that looked more the result of chemicals or hexes, paleness, and accelerated hair loss. For the last case they brought in a consultant from Star's End, who went very pale himself at what he beheld -
He left the hospital at once, jabbering about lead blankets and plastic suits, speaking in terms the hospital could not understand; but the next case manifesting the same symptoms that arrived at the hospital was simply, and without explanation, turned away.
"Come in, come in - be quick about it!"
Such was the case of Dr. Iellis Havendaro, a promising (and now outcast) scientist from Sulanie, who hurried the little street urchin into his home and laboratory in the depths of the West End. The boy carried a basket with a strange-looking blanket over it, and as the door slammed shut, he lifted the blanket....but the doctor slapped his hands and tsk'ed.
"No! What did I tell you about that?"
"But..."
"No, put the basket down over there, I'll have your money for you in just a moment. Shoo, shoo!"
Havendaro was thin, almost emaciated, with a pinched and agitated look to his face and a prominent widow's peak with a shock of silver hair. He was frowning to himself as he picked through his wallet - the strange burns had shown up on this boy's hands, too, as they also had with his colleague years ago...
"I'm afraid this is all I have for you, and the last you'll be getting from me," the doctor said, throwing the pouch at the boy's chest. It dropped onto the floor and he bent to hastily scoop it all up.
"But I thought you said..."
"I say lots of things and haven't the time to keep track of them. Now SHOO!" The boy was pushed out the door with a broom, and the door slammed shut behind him.
Funds were getting tight again, Havendaro was well aware. His research was dangerous, mysterious, and also expensive, and writing grants for the local university was paying the bills about as well as he thought it would. The Dissident Barons had funded his work in the past, but then the King uncovered the plot, leaving many of the Barons without their heads, and Havendaro alone in RhyDin, nearly penniless, with only his notebooks and an obsession with rediscovering the secrets the Master Race had known centuries before — with which they had levelled whole civilizations!
Such a discovery would make him famous beyond his wildest dreams....but first, to see his dream through, he would have to find a benefactor.
* * *
In the month of January, 2009 C.A., Saint Percy's Free Hospital had eight homeless childreen die in their facility. One was overfed after being malnourished for an extended period of time, and the other was too far gone from tuberculosis to be aided by their healers, but six perished after a strange fever with the symptom of an even stranger skin condition - burns that looked more the result of chemicals or hexes, paleness, and accelerated hair loss. For the last case they brought in a consultant from Star's End, who went very pale himself at what he beheld -
He left the hospital at once, jabbering about lead blankets and plastic suits, speaking in terms the hospital could not understand; but the next case manifesting the same symptoms that arrived at the hospital was simply, and without explanation, turned away.