Jodiah has never appreciated the Nexus.
From the days of old, to even now, he never appreciated the Nexus, and what it could do for him. He knew of the pale gray --thing-- in the sky that was neither Arabrab nor Trebor. He even heard someone call it "Gateway" once, but he detested knowing more than that. It was man-made, that is all he needed to know to avoid it.
He, himself, had encountered these so-called "spacers" before, too. Typically an arrogant lot, their weapons were impressive but not overly. Nothing a good suit of full-plate couldn't turn aside, in most cases. Their "blasters" -- as they called them -- seemed to be little more than pretty lights, and they use some kind of headless, wingless, armless, tailess dragons to fly through the sky, rather than a good, stable horse.
Ayreg despised these... spacers.
Yet here he was, on his way out of the city of Rhy'Din. Those three fools he had run into at the inn the other day -- especially that little harpy with her map -- had reminded him of its presence. Normally he'd stay away from the Fool's Luck Bay, but today, he felt the compelling urge to go. Leaving bracers and mail behind, Ayreg set off on foot through the land outside of the large, sprawling city.
Some hours later, Ayreg lifted his head and gazed toward the bottom of the ridge. It was.. strangely beautiful, in its own way. Ayreg had never been to the spaceport before -- it was, perhaps, the last thing on his list of locations to march on with his army and conquer -- and it was truly a divine sight. Buildings rose over the ground like titans, covered in gleaming plate-mail. As Ayreg walked across the open field toward the spaceport, he saw the first of those dragons zipping through the sky. The misty morning, which dampened his cloak, was apparently making it hard for the dragon mounts to see, as the front of them -- where Ayreg could only surmise a head of some kind was -- were glowing brightly, with two fierce, constant beams of light. A most interesting humming noise could be heard as one of these dragons flew over him, and Ayreg was... almost.... afraid. Easing the icon-etched warsword in its beltloop for reassurance, he entered the spaceport.
The road was not made of cobbles. In fact, he was not entirely sure what it was made of. It seemed to him, at first, to be some kind of black river. Only it was solid, and it had lights that blazed out from the banks. It was simple enough to walk upon, though, but after Ayreg was almost hit by some kind of beast with blazing, beam-like eyes very similiar to the dragons he saw outside the city, he decided to refrain from tarrying too long.
After several more hours of looking around, and being laughed out of several shoppes, Ayreg finally finds what he's looking for. In Rhy'Din City proper, blacksmiths create weapons and armor. In the starport on Fool's Luck Bay, they're created in places called "Workshops" and, perhaps, later eventually sold to "Weapon Shops" where they would be re-sold later to individuals. Ayreg went strait to a workshop.
Ducking inside, his thin lips twitched as he pulled his cloak down from his head, and doing his best to smile at the man behind the counter.
Nobody ever accused Ayreg of not staying up-to-date with the latest of weaponry.
From the days of old, to even now, he never appreciated the Nexus, and what it could do for him. He knew of the pale gray --thing-- in the sky that was neither Arabrab nor Trebor. He even heard someone call it "Gateway" once, but he detested knowing more than that. It was man-made, that is all he needed to know to avoid it.
He, himself, had encountered these so-called "spacers" before, too. Typically an arrogant lot, their weapons were impressive but not overly. Nothing a good suit of full-plate couldn't turn aside, in most cases. Their "blasters" -- as they called them -- seemed to be little more than pretty lights, and they use some kind of headless, wingless, armless, tailess dragons to fly through the sky, rather than a good, stable horse.
Ayreg despised these... spacers.
Yet here he was, on his way out of the city of Rhy'Din. Those three fools he had run into at the inn the other day -- especially that little harpy with her map -- had reminded him of its presence. Normally he'd stay away from the Fool's Luck Bay, but today, he felt the compelling urge to go. Leaving bracers and mail behind, Ayreg set off on foot through the land outside of the large, sprawling city.
Some hours later, Ayreg lifted his head and gazed toward the bottom of the ridge. It was.. strangely beautiful, in its own way. Ayreg had never been to the spaceport before -- it was, perhaps, the last thing on his list of locations to march on with his army and conquer -- and it was truly a divine sight. Buildings rose over the ground like titans, covered in gleaming plate-mail. As Ayreg walked across the open field toward the spaceport, he saw the first of those dragons zipping through the sky. The misty morning, which dampened his cloak, was apparently making it hard for the dragon mounts to see, as the front of them -- where Ayreg could only surmise a head of some kind was -- were glowing brightly, with two fierce, constant beams of light. A most interesting humming noise could be heard as one of these dragons flew over him, and Ayreg was... almost.... afraid. Easing the icon-etched warsword in its beltloop for reassurance, he entered the spaceport.
The road was not made of cobbles. In fact, he was not entirely sure what it was made of. It seemed to him, at first, to be some kind of black river. Only it was solid, and it had lights that blazed out from the banks. It was simple enough to walk upon, though, but after Ayreg was almost hit by some kind of beast with blazing, beam-like eyes very similiar to the dragons he saw outside the city, he decided to refrain from tarrying too long.
After several more hours of looking around, and being laughed out of several shoppes, Ayreg finally finds what he's looking for. In Rhy'Din City proper, blacksmiths create weapons and armor. In the starport on Fool's Luck Bay, they're created in places called "Workshops" and, perhaps, later eventually sold to "Weapon Shops" where they would be re-sold later to individuals. Ayreg went strait to a workshop.
Ducking inside, his thin lips twitched as he pulled his cloak down from his head, and doing his best to smile at the man behind the counter.
Nobody ever accused Ayreg of not staying up-to-date with the latest of weaponry.