Topic: The Accidental Alchemist: ~Open for Business~

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2006-10-18 16:40 EST
Always thinking of it as a delicate language, the language of empires and poets, a form of symbols that reflected not only the ancient past but also the inner workings of the soul, Templeton treated it with the utmost care, not at all magic but rather, as poetry.

Perhaps that is why the Notars, his sect of magic wielding scribes, forced him into this exile, far from home. For Notars wrote stoic short words or symbols as tradition demanded, only writing the letters needed for the magical effects. Their language, the only remaining shred of the Noat Empire that spanned the Prytanian continent, allowed the caster to alter the world around him with a glyph, a cartouche or the pictograph of a needed item. Notars wrote for spell effects in much the same way Runeweavers do. Simple letters written on items made them enchanted. Notars, like secluded scribes, spent hours beautifying these symbols and thus giving them that much more power. Power that the magical notaries used to control most of the civilized continent; any other form of magic rendered illegal. Thus the Notars had become the undisputed monopolizers of the arcana arts. Templeton gravitated in secret to establish a black market in the illegal trade of magic and its enchanted items.

Despite their power and control, the resulting syntax while elaborate, always read clumsy, always primitive never truly reflected the heights of a once great people. Yet Templeton, pressed on by the evidence of recent excavations and artifacts that his own band of adventurers, discovered evidence of a poetic style to the Noat language, poetry that contained tender emotions, lavish descriptions, and profound philosophy. The mage-scribe found connections, used adjectives and adverbs to enhance his magic.

This combined with the blatant power of the Noat tongue opened deep recesses of power to Templeton. Advancing further than anyone had ever known the now former Notar began to alter his own possessions- then altering his own past through the language. For centuries the Notars expressly condemned and punished using The Noat in the first person.

Yet Orleon had done just that.

Betrayed (perhaps justifiably so) by his Acropol, his mentor, branded by his own powerful sect of scribes as a heretic, Orleon found himself imprisoned deep in the Swamp of Shadows North of Rivermoon. The city rested on a fertile southern delta of the continent, deflecting the overall savagery of the Noat Empire's fall by harnessing commercial relationship with the mysterious tropical islands to the south. The metropolis so successfully navigated the oceans of trade that it established a mercantile barony and retained independence from the Notars.

For a steep price Templeton was imprisoned in its underbelly. Luckily one of the inquisitors sympathized with his ideas, and thus allowed the disgraced Notar to keep his clothing and equipment.

Undaunted, though desperate, Orleon spent weeks, then months attempting to scrawl one symbol onto the floor using his toenails. An eight pointed asterisk soon developed on the floor under him. Covering the ancient Noat symbol for "Random" when someone entered his cell, Templeton then proceeded to empower his spell with borders, cartouches, and adorations which increased its range and power.

Perhaps too much range and power.

For when Orleon Templeton fashioned the last curve onto a intricate diamond design in the center of the cipher, his reality shifted, whirled and plummeted. His cape enveloped around him to protect its master from the sudden onslaught of particles and wormholes.

Upon pulling the ends of his cape together, Orleon found himself in a spectacular but unfamiliar city, far from the memories of his Rivermoon or even his Prytania.

"What is this place?" he said to an astonished merchant selling a fruit that was unfamiliar to Orleon.

"The Marketplace," the man said, adjusting his robes uncomfortably. "And ya shouldn't be popping in like that here, that's why we have the School for the Mages 'ere"

"Blast I mean the name of the city man, this place, what is it?" Orleon barked, angered and sweating from the loss of energy and the long journey.

"Tis the city of Rhydin, sir, now begone before I call a guard!"

As Templeton walked away, nearly staggering, he could not remember that name. In all of his research nothing had been called Rhydin.

It would be some time before Orleon Templeton would know exactly how far he 'escaped'.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2006-10-19 17:31 EST
In the fews days that Orleon spent in this strange new city, he had learned much of its activity. For one thing, the rogue mage became addicted to visiting the Red Dragon Inn, a center of commerce and activity in the region. The collection of people and information appeared to bust at the seams. Strange how everything appeared to flow out of a tavern.

Traveling the streets cautiously, Orleon slowly regained enough energy to cast his spells. Levitation had come easy, but he refused to use it. Of great use was the cartouche, the enchanted formula for shrinking objects. To his dismay he had found a reserve cache of scrolls and tomes that would prove profitable. Perhaps, with enough contacts he could make a living in this place.

A dog, a rough and scruffy companion with large jowls and shining coat, joined him in his walks about RhyDin City. Feeling his face, he realized that by now he would need a shave of some sort. Wandering about, Templeton spent much of his afternoons in the Inn, casually speaking to others, hoping for an opportunity. Surprisingly the language came to him easy enough and he wondered if they did speak the same tongue.

At the inn Templeton met such interesting people as Kairee, delightful and enticing, yet elusive and playful. RosieODel also proved to be a great help in pointing out direction to him, something the magiscribe needed desperately. When having enough coin he would need to drop in on her 'diner'. Though he had no idea what that may be.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-17 21:28 EST
Growing tired of Rhydin, Orleon took to wander the streets of the marketplace, trying to find someone that would employ him or give him a sense of direction. Two objects seemed to keep his mind centered. The satchel that had survived the transfer to this world offered him a treasure of ingredients and volumes of information. With an astute heart and preserverence, Templeton filled books with diagrams and formulas. Having the power to shrink the mass and wieght of the volumes, the Notar stored them within the comfortable folds of leather.

Xariri, his faithful multi-colored cloak, dwelled with him like a pet. Containing one of his former pet feline's within its reserve, the cape developed both a protective sense and a coy mischievousness. Having little to do, the cloak watched people and took particular pleasure in trying to get them to notice it.

The hours and days withered into one and the other as Orleon kept himself busy. The Notar fashioned a cloak for Lalique, a homeless woman dwelling in the marketplace, that served as both a companion and a source of warmth. Finding an abandoned shack, Templeton got to work on the medium that would prove the most profitable- brewing potions.

The Notars frowned upon such trivialities of the true science. The N'tar language evolved beyond such extensions, being only a rudimentary step in the quest for the absolute tongue, the eternal symbol of Ail. Mere novices were taught that barbaric custom of turning lead to gold, of brewing potions for love and desire. Discouraged at the point of a punishment stick, the novices quickly drew away from such menial labor, and focused on the language, the symbols and cartouches that made their science great.

Yet Templeton could see no resort, well footed in the community thanks to Lalique's bountiful word of mouth, along with a good nudge from Kairee's efforts, the Notar set up accidental shop. Telling fortunes, reading the runes, and concoctions. Everyone wanted a concoction, a potion or ability that they did not possess. At times it may even be someone. Though the accidental alchemist tended to avoid such sticky situations by charging exorbitant amounts for complying spells and brews.

The Notar avoided such relationships and requests. Frankly things could get bad, even dangerous and that could be unforgiving to the scholarly type. No while he did speak the absolute truth, he tried to avoid manipulating the fates of one who loved a warlord or local tyrant. Sleeping in the shack under such circumstances could be undesirable.

Slowly and steady the reluctant entrepreneur made a tidy, then handsome, sum. Nowhere near a small fortune, Orleon began to plan of perhaps settling in Rhydin and recreating Mit-Cuid, his great manor in Rivermoon.

But that would many, many consultations and surely he would have to expand into the buying and selling of physical arcana.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-20 10:05 EST
In the days that followed, tracking the sun with instruments both bought and constructed, Templeton began to make it a habit of resting on the small porch infront of the humble shack. From his vantage point the Notar noted every movement in the large plaza before him, only steps from his burch. In the following days the porch became filled with a myriad of flasks and transparent containers, each holding an ingredient or concoction of his choosing. Pots about the porch appeared thereafter, filled with various plants, herbs, and dirt collected. Within his satchel each parcel and piece catalogued in an impressive tome. There within the pages a multitude of diagrams and spells- each becoming more complex than the other.

Panab, the power of the word, overtook him; and there was nothing the Notar could do to avoid it.

For centuries his sect of word smiths both feared and envied the panab. Universally considered a blessing when it descended upon the scholar in an unfamiliar (or uncatalogued) area, the Panab literally translated meant "giving word". It became the job of the Notar, the cataloger to find or conceive the name, record the name, and register the name of every member of the chosen kingdom- be it animal, person, or thing. The act, more like a ceremony, could become grueling for the individual; particularly if it required the services of a Jif- or supervising mentor.

Yet Orleon could think of no Jif except for himself. On this rare and lucky occasion there would be no deadlines of samples of theorums, no stuffing ingredients into tiny drawers and offered to the writing circle. None of that. At this time Orleon appeared free and with time, to amass all that the surrounding world of Rhydin would offer.

Already Orleon discovered an odd plant, one of his first Camellia alcemis, an odd plant which held remarkable qualities. It could become the base plant, that viable leaf which took on the atributes of whatever you added to it. The leaf, steeped as a tea magnified whatever one placed with it. To the point of having hallucinogenic properties. Mixing it with the horn of a bull, Orleon found that the day went much easier, his ability to lift increased by several times. Boiling it in milk, within the light of the morning sun, appeared to extend his perception of time, where he moved slower than the world around him. Swallowing too much made him pass a solid three days in what he perceived as but a flash. It would serve well when he needed the time. Yet he wondered if the reverse were true.

The teas and the alcemis deserved a volume in itself, and the Notar rapidly expanded not only his cataloging but his collection. It eventually overtook the shack. The interior and large front porch facing the plaza of the Marketplace, evolved into a Notarial and achemical library, a booth for consultation was set up, and tables for tea drinking. (The Notar had found the alcemis wonderfully marketable, an apt word in his current location). Bottles hung on the porch, for warriors appeared to always want potions as he had learned from the past few days.

Orleon wondered if he could start that business, that of temple and dungeon extraction services in Rhydin, then again he would surely need to advertise.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-22 21:00 EST
After days upon days of research, Orleon felt he worst part of being an alchemist was waiting for boiling water. Nothing could be more frustrating. If he wanted, surely a minor spell could flourish the substance into excitement- it was his way. Even a rune of heat would bring the water to the bubbling surface. But Templeton also noted that the product, be it potion, concentrate, or pildor, did not retain the same power that it would if fire was used. Fire, one of the key elements, gave it a special power.

Consulting work in Rhydin slowed down since the Notar extracted the runes from a curious client named Teyah Blackstone. The runes came easily, but still the familiarity and daring that had come from their meeting still made him wonder. Surely everyone at the bar must have seen their interchange. An honest fortune teller usually is a poor fortuneteller, he reminded himself. No one pays for the truth, but promises and empty dreams were big business.

Still he thought again, waiting for the flames to curl on the glass device containing the water, about the dark haired woman that came to see him. Orleon went back in his mind, returning to Rivermoon painfully. Wondering if she too found a portal into this world, or if perhaps this world was just on the other side of Rivermoon. Where had they met before, nothing seemed to come up at all. Her skin did succumb well to the cartouches of the N'tor language, for they had arisen rather easily. In others a divining session using the tongue could take hours.

Orleon then felt a disturbing thought curl about his mind, planting itslef into a horrid realization. Searching about his person, his vestments and about his cloak (and it enjoyed every minute of it) Templeton frantically looked for his stylus, the veritable magical staff of his sect.

Nowhere to be seen, at all. He summoned it but surely it must have gone out of range. If he were out of range of the pen, surely it would disappear, but there was no indication in the tongue of malice there. Then he noticed his cloak, shaking, as if in laughter.

"Xariri! Pickpocketing your own master, and with such a valuable item!" Templeton roared, marching out into the front looking frantically out into the square hoping to see Teyeh.

Beside him the water overflowed, boiling over above the flames.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-24 21:00 EST
The light snow melted with his thoughts, watching out from the porch of the small shack, overlooking the pitch black of the evening hours. Far off, in the swirling crystals of moisture, a high tower rang with an unknown hour. Xiriri huddled close about his soldiers driven by the inespicaable need to protect and conserve. The cloak moved less, protecting vitals about Templeton's torso, ever mindful of his needs. The small cauldron swirled in heat, but Orleon barely felt the instinct to move its contents into the appropriate place. Nothing called him more than the unknown location of the stylus.

Frustrated, the Notar turned to his ingredients. Reaching for a well worn flask of hiden powder, the supply running out, he began to wonder where would he gain a fresh supply of supplies. While in his prison in Rivermoon, before the overcast spell brought him to this strange but profitable place, the exiled scribe thought of hiring muscle to seek about the realm for components to his spells. Too many times in the past few days had warriors wished minotaur horn, a vital part of healing medicine.

Orleon smiled, so many adventurers go forth into the world without the proper equipment, let alone a party. 'Always travel with a healer, it is more valuable than any sword, more useful than the hardest shield' one particularly well injured Warven had told him.

The warlord, no better way to describe him, entered his thoughts, clearly an individual looking for work. To the average mage, Rhydin City proved to be a mecca for warriors looking for jobs. And Magi always had the need for wandering strong arms. All one needed to do was tell them 'Bring X and whatever you find is yours'.

With that they were hooked.

Orleon made a mental note, passing it on to a wandering beggar, to look out for this C'ang. This Dwarf which called himself something, something familiar. What was it with familiarity these recent days.

Perhaps Rivermoon was not as far as he had originally thought, or perhaps there was a connection.

Orleon continued to wait, deciding to give the potion a terrifying dose of immortality, saving it for C'ang.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-28 11:08 EST
Templeton, trained in the myriad ways of manipulating the world around, proved to be no care-taker. While the man grew in the strange knowledge of bringing the universe of ingredients and reactions to his complete control, he appeared an imbecile when taking care of a patient. Damn, adventurers were supposed to take care of themselves!

Just when the small cove at the plaza of the marketplace began to take an air of familiarity, this had to happen. Usually the transfer of memories went smoothly, but then again this could (and the Notar still wondered if this were another world or not) be another realm of existence.

The woman looked disturbed, wrought my images not her own. Templeton attempted, valiantly, to make her comfortable, loosening her robes and leather. She appeared surprisingly full-bodied despite her sharp elegant features. Orleon cursed for feeling aroused, still feeling like a alchemist in the middle of an experiment. Enough time for that later.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-28 11:08 EST
Hearing movement in the plaza, Templeton moved, colliding his head with a floating oil lantern. Leaving Teyah alone, he moved onto the porch. Since there was nothing more he could do for the woman, he decided that perhaps a little bit of business would prove beneficial for him. Yet, like always happens in retail, it seemed that the customers, a certain curious woman. After her, and Templeton drumming his fingers upon the chair, came a strange individual. At any other time the Notar would have given him complete attention.

The being, unsure if it human, mortal, demon, or even undead, asked about the Philosoper's Stone. Somewhere in the Notarial Archives, there appeared to be some attention to the nonsense. Turning lead to gold, but turning something worthless into something valuable contained no higher function. Money had never been a problem to the Notars, money was trivial. The secret order tapped into the reservoirs of buried resources that the N'tar empire had left behind. Long ago the scribe monks translated the locations of thousands of underground, vast chambers of instruments, chests, items, and hordes of treasure that Orleon had only begun to muster for himself. For that he would need help.

Apparently the poor retch sought the remedy for a missing arm, given fate had probably deserved the punishment or gotten himself into the situation. Very well, Orleon thought, lifting himself into the rafters, long tucked from prying eyes- for he did not want someone to steal this. Stealing potions of healing, and increasing intelligence. What is that too a man of his growing caliber? The needy did take from his porch as needed, the guilty finding surprises later on.

Giving the creature, a bottle filled with the Vinus Destin, a fermented brew of the diviner's vine, whereupon the drinker is cured if that be their eventual fate and entered the shack to check upon his guest.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-28 23:17 EST
Templeton opened the door of his shack, his eyes looking over Teyah with an emotion that could only be registered as guilt. What else would one feel? This woman, if she her form were naturally human, managed to grow so close to him and somehow he had found a way to betray her. Had he betrayed her?

The night, cold with a touch of snow, a fact that Orleon's tropical blood could never become totally accostomed to, found him with customers- as always the case. It seems that the creature with one arm, known as Gabe Vega he had found out, appeared to have grown another arm. Fine, good, the Notar felt elated that he could be a part of his destiny. Though at the aid of an elixir that had the taste of processed pork meat. Some destinies do not taste sweet. The usual price of mention and dedication had been asked, the usual odd currency of this world.

Still thinking about evening, Orleon checked on Teyah, her pulse appeared elated, her forehead sweaty, her body in desperate spasms of cold. The symptoms made the skilled Notar wonder if she were true to her human form. This unacceptance had been odd; frankly worrying the former apprentice. Orleon sat upon the bed, his hand upon her shoulder, her pupils moved about as if seeing a thousand things.

For so had he.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-28 23:19 EST
Exhaling Templeton remembered the visit that always seemed welcome in an unwelcome time. Kairee, appearing much like the muses of poets, and perhaps both inspiring and damning them to eternal desire (Nothing could make a man create more art, than simple desire); she entered his porch perhaps on an errant. Though Orleon, feeling the intoxicating effects, of a new tabac he had discovered a few days before, may have gone too far.

With only a thought to the perils his 'guest' may be enduring, Templeton felt the instant need to gratify simple needs- or perhaps just see how far he could get. This only made the Notar that much angrier, pounding the bed beside Teyah, how could he behave like such a, a, man?

The banter only continued, Orleon even reaching for the woman's thigh. Logically she refused his advances, mentioning a promise that may or may not be decaying. The Market Alchemist remembered her asking about what lude behavior he could be doing besides research? What do people ask for when they come? Are you not here lonely and desperate perhaps even fondling yourself other than reading books? Surely that was not what she had asked but that was what he heard and now remembered.

Instead of pushing her away, like he had done with Teyah, the Notar only summoned from his eternal supply of magica in his rafters, a device of a questionable sexual nature- a toilet seat on a springed stand. Orleon was not even sure where it came from, but if someone had asked or even will ask for the item, surely it appeared within the web of crooked beams that made the over carriage of this mysterious shack. Templeton made a note on a pad by the bed to investigate the previous owners, and uses of this shack. Containing the faint smell of sulfur in certain corners, could prove quite suspicious.

Hearing a grown from her, Orleon decided to break with Kairee (or was it that she had refused his advances, would he have walked away with her, and return to his patient. The usual banter between them, Kairee always managed to enter, stay and leave in ambiguity, Orleon watched the woman leave, not sure if he had managed to betray someone that he had shared so much with so fast.

Feeling that vacuum called guilt, Orleon allowed Xiriri to slip from his shoulders, encircling and warming the woman in his stay. Turning over, Templeton rested his back on the bedboard, taking a volume from the table he began to read, softly touching Teyah's long black hair, trying to not look at the sharp curvature of her form.

Eventually his eyes became heavy, and the last thought in his mind wondered if he would join Teyah in her dreams.

But those were things he would not wish to return to.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-01-30 12:05 EST
Shadow was wandering the Marketplace for the umpteenth time that day. She sighed, knowing that she wouldn't find him. Then she saw the shack and remembered the add in the newspaper, something about Divintations....Worth a shot, right?

She walked up and knocked on the door.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-30 21:08 EST
Rivermoon now occupied Orleon's dreams, sleeping in the shack with his arm about Teyah. The wondrous Rivermoon, city of balconies and ornate patios shadows by palms, soothed by the breeze of the Arcanum River. Some called it the delta of dreams, since the Brothers Crimson founded it centuries before for the Ntar Empire. Guided by the light of a silvered moon, the conquerors followed to find clean air and fresh water in the delta to alleviate their berserk instincts. Warriors, deadly harbringers of empire, founded Rivermoon, and to commemorate that day, once a year, the local tavern owners hold the Milkmoon Festival. Orleon remembered at one of the ale contests he met this one lady of....

The knock came at the door, returning him from his beloved city, the taste of grain and Guidari syrup, used to make The Milkmoon's Tavern prized brew wet his lips. Orleon found himself wiping the corners of his mouth. Despite his growing knowledge of alchemy, the Notar could not even begin to fathom how to recreate the concoction. But he set a note in his mind to begin as soon as possible.

Lifting his arm tenderly from over Teyah, Templeton moved to the door. The morning appeared to have come abruptly, not know where the time had gone. Orleon felt a chill tingle his magi instincts. Someone penetrated his defenses. 'Why would anyone knock, if they had obliterated the shields about the house. Perhaps this one was worthy, needed help, or simply was innocent of wrongdoing. Those with malice (hopefully) cannot enter', the Notar thought to himself, looking back at Teyah.

The dreams appeared to have subsides, she no longer perspired, and did not appear restless. Templeton smiled and turned to the door, summoning his cloak from around Teyah and about. The cape whirled about him as if a liquid.

Opening the door, Orleon noted the form before him, the slender and well dressed lady. Deeply tan, she gave the impression of great serenity, strong centering. The gleam of three swords, cautioned the Notar, but felt no malice.

Smiling, stepping out into the porch, Orleon tried not to think the obvious...

"May I help you," he asked as politely as possible considering that this form surely was a mask for a Wyrm.

What would a dragon wish of his trinkets, words, and symbols?

Firebreath

Date: 2007-01-30 23:31 EST
She smiled slightly. So he feels Magic..Interesting. She took a half step back, allowing him onto the porch. Her movement just barely too graceful to be human. "Um, maybe...I heard you do Divintations?" She looked him up and down, feeling his...Fear?

"And I promise I won't bite..Much anyway...And I might be able to help you in return. There is a young woman in there, one that needs healing, correct? I think I can help her."

Teyah Blackstone

Date: 2007-01-31 16:59 EST
:::Teyah awoke with a start, her eyes flying open and seeing some strange sort of scientific mobile above her. It was dark, except for a few twinkling lights. She studied the mobile in the dim light allowing her eyes to focus and then turned slightly to see where she was. Her head ached as she noted the wild disarray of bottles, decanters and parchment. She could hear various liquids bubbling nearby, while a gentle mist seemed to hover about the room. The memories of her and Orleon?s exchange came back to her, reminding her that after he had placed the instrument of memories on her forehead, she felt as if she were to faint.
Judging the current situation she was in, she must have done just that. Her hands felt underneath her, connecting with the soft material of bed linens. She went to lean onto one elbow when the warm covering over her stirred. She smiled and rolled a hand over the cloak.

?Oh?Xariri. Have you been protecting me?? she managed to whisper.

The cloak ruffled its approval and then she heard a movement next to her. The sound of labored breathing commenced by her side and she turned. Orleon lay sleeping there, his mouth slightly open.

Teyah grinned and briefly her previous dreams bounced back. She remembered watching him in the shadows of his study as the intruder caught him creating elborate designs. She recalled the condition he was in when locked away in his prison cell desperately trying to escape through his etchings on the floor. But most of all she saw the way he looked at her at the Masquerade Ball. The ?Rivermoon? Masquerade Ball. How could she have been there, or was it simply the confusion of her dream? Was she placed into one of his memories, like the other scenes? But why did he see her, acknowledge her, dance with her, and almost?..kiss her?

She eyed him there, wondering what he was dreaming about. She pushed herself into a sitting position, Xariri snoozing by her lap. She took Orleon?s hand, feeling his skin in her palms and fingers. The dream had been so real. She could place exactly how his skin felt as he held her hand in the midst of their dancing. She could smell his musky scent and taste his flinty breath. She brought his hand up to her cheek and caressed her face with the back of it. She placed her lips upon it and inhaled.

Then she stopped. She inhaled again and closed her eyes to hold back?what was the feeling??.disappointment. She could smell the scent of someone. Someone rather feminine. It was a combination of phermone, soap and perfume. She had always been keen with primal senses, but she was hoping that her current feelings for Orleon hadn?t compromised their accuracy. Maybe it was a potion he was working on? Maybe he had helped a fair maiden with some remedy? But she couldn?t shake her instincts. Her instincts that the scent was indeed feminine and quite potent. But then what right did she have to feel this way? He was not hers...

She dropped his hand gently and slipped quietly off the bed, adjusting her clothes. She found her cloak nearby and then thought it would be best to leave Orleon with a taste of some magic she had acquired on her travels. She found a blank piece of parchment and quill. She scribbled a note and placed it on the bed where she had lay. Then she stopped to concentrate and whispered a few unintelligible words. An exact replica of her shimmered into appearance on the bed next to Orleon. She walked over and placed his arm over the twin for good measure. The figure, that could even make the motions of breathing and unrest, would last for a few hours and then fade softly, the note below coming into view.

She hastened to the front entrance, looking back to wave and mouth ?goodbye for now? to Xariri. She needed time to think. She definitely felt something for this man and she was bonded to him in some way. He also may have answers to her past. But right now, she just wanted to get home and have a drink. She stepped out into the night, a hint of morning light bursting over the trees.

And back at Orleon?s place, the note read:

?Thanks for the memories.

Sincerely,

Teyah?::::

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-01-31 20:29 EST
There is a young woman in there, one that needs healing, correct? I think I can help her."

Templeton shook the feelings of so-called fear from his mind. Many creatures about the earth only became worse if they smelled fear, and Orleon was to have no part in fear. Straightening, he looked the sensual being in the eye, realizing the mission of supposed mercy she lead. Looking back, the Notar noticed that upon his bed the form of Teyah flittered then faded. Wondering if she had come to him only to steel his memories, an addiction that he had encountered in the far southern islands, among the Kiru Tribe; he muttered to himself- then muttered it out loud, slightly confused.

"There seems to be no woman here that needs your help, apparently she has gone into the ether," the former apprentice spoke, his eyes both on the plaza and the form before him. Damn if he knew why Teyah had run off like that. Perhaps, since everyone in this world appeared to have some extra-ordinary power, the lady may have sensed the presence of Kairee.

'How could she not sense the presence of the woman, that muse, that floated about Rhydin gracing magi and artists? Even I could sense her presence, it was so obvious, damn me for not setting up any cloaks- or for getting too close,' Orleon thought, his mind racing. 'But what harm was there in enjoying the comfort of a muse, afterall, I, one of the most powerful wielders of the sacred tongue stuck in this shack. Then again whose fault is that? For this land has been too strange and too overabundant in information and components. A magi or Notar from the Prytania could make a fortune herein.

Mayhap that is why I have stayed.'

Glancing only briefly at the note, questing time would have to wait until later, Orleon stepped out fully onto the porch, ducking his head under a hanging tree of drying herbs. "I do hope that perhaps we can help each other, and yes I do read the symbols of old, at times even drawing them from the person, would you care to read symbols on cards or shall I draw them directly out of you?"

Orleon controlled the last bit of the statement, hoping that his voice did not give way to anything fearful. Yet he did wonder what the wyrm would do to the sacred tongue of the Notar, what symbols would he pull from her if she chose the second option.

'Still such is life, a dragon upon my porch, a muse about the streets, and his bed still warm from the sharing of a memory, such is Rhydin....'

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-01 13:16 EST
She blinked, feeling magic from the form that disappeared. Then looking him in the eye. "I'm not evil..I like humans, and they don't eat good anyway. I'm not a spy either...Will you quite thinking I am? I wasn't trying to read you, but you thought that bit rather loudly. Now then, that said, what would drawing them out of me involve? And how would it differ from reading the cards?"

As she was speaking a small red kitten ran up the steps to sit beside her, then it shifted into a human form, a young girl about thirteen with red hair. The girl smiled at him then said, "You might wanna stop gawking at my Bond mate. This form's not that sensual..Not anywere near as bad as her Elven form. So do stop staring, and she's a nice dragon that doesn't know a thing of your breed of magic, and isn't anything close to evil."

Shadow jumped, "Ayra! I thought I told you to stay with Ryo!"

Ayra smirked, "Good point, I'll go now. Know this Notar, I know your magic. Be glad I'm not entering." And with that she disappeared.

Shadow sighed, "I'm sorry about that..She's a bit of a pain, and much older then that form said...She's a were-cat."

Kairee

Date: 2007-02-01 14:13 EST
A shimmering ripple of this Realities fabric and Kairee appears, reclining in a wood slate lounge chair. Her dress as nearly immodestly short as ever and her long, splendiferous legs crossed at the ankle.

"I see the show has already started." she smirks at Orleon and Shadow.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-01 14:25 EST
Shadow looks over at Kairee. Nodding slightly. "That it did.." She smiles, trying to be friendly.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-01 19:13 EST
"Do excuse my paranoia, I know it must have seemed rude," Orleon said in the polite sensere attitude he cultivated since becoming an accidental merchant of components. " I assure you meant no harm, and was not meant to be rude in any way. In my line of work, with lovers looking to the future, warriors for favors, and magi looking for power in this city, my line of work could get dangerous."

Orleon pointed to the sloven but comfortable chairs used for clients and visitors, various tables surrounding them with herbs, writing materials, and smoking incense. His cape sweeped behind him without touching it, and motioned to the chairs. "Please sit," the Notar commented with a generous invite, avoiding the hanging bottles that appeared to move out of his way. "As for the process of extracting symbols, since all the answers are within you, we all know our future, I can pull from your form characters of the sacred alphabet which will let us know what is going on with that situation." Waiting for his guest to sit, Templeton explained further. "But if you prefer it we could simply read the symbols on these cards," Orleon lifted a card from the table, a shining spear glowed on the hard back card, flipping it, the symbol turned and became a shield. "I luckily had these in my satchel when I got to Rhydin."

Politely waiting for the response, Orleon felt little surprise when Kairee appeared on the lounge beside him. Somehow the Notar came to expect the sudden appearance of his so-called muse. While he was not take aback, Templeton still felt a shock when he allowed his sight to wander to those ever-well made legs of hers.

Kairee

Date: 2007-02-01 19:16 EST
A teasing wink to Orleon and a dazzling smile for his client, "Please....don't stop on my account. I'm here to observe only."

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-01 21:19 EST
After speaking the words, Templeton recalled the invitation he had extended to Kairee last night. "I had not expected you so soon, and this early, I had no idea that you even got up this early..." Orleon said with a smirk.

Turning to his 'client' the Notar awaited a response.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-01 21:43 EST
"I can see that happening, although it hardly seems fair."

She sat; carefully dodging the hanging bottles. Her movements once again just too fluid to be human. She smiled, "Well, which is more accurate? Or is accuracy in the eye of the beholder?"

She smiled to Kairee, "You two know each other?" Her eyes following the Notar's gaze.

Kairee

Date: 2007-02-02 14:12 EST
"Who said I slept?" her smile teases Orleon before her gaze drifts back to Shadow, "Does it matter, Babes? You're here for your purposes and I am here for mine." Kairee shifts slightly and turns her spleniferous legs a bit, "Or are you suggesting that I am not welcome?" she asks as her emerald eyes consider the girl-form before her.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-02 14:33 EST
She nodded. "That's true." Her eyes widened slightly. "Oh no..I didn't mean that at all. I apologize if that's how it sounded."

Kairee

Date: 2007-02-02 14:50 EST
"You can make it up to me sometime. " Kairee winks, "Now, don't keep Orleon waiting much longer. He is running a business, aren't you, babes?"

Kairee conjures a flute of champagne and settles back content to watch the proceedings.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-02 16:55 EST
She grinned, looking back at Orleon. "I suppose we could try drawing them. Sounds interesting."

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-03 10:58 EST
Templeton awoke an odd feeling in his head. Since his 'former apprentice' healed in his bed it just did not feel the same. Moving to the corner of his toiletries, the Notar looked into the buffed steel shield used as a mirror. Time in Rhydin began to show its effects, though not negatively. His hair, once a jet black, took on the color of grey and salt in areas. His beard, in Rivermoon it never grew beyond its limits, now occupied his entire face. His eyes pulsed with knowledge, they felt deeper. The irises reflecting less color, to the Notars that meant more knowledge passed through them. Age caught up a bit with Orleon and he noted that it had been a fair exchange. The great exchange of life, experience for age.

Regardless of the physical signs (or tolls), Tempelton felt refreshed. Moving about the shack with a new resolve, Orleon decided to explore any avenues to return to his Rivermoon. The question remained where would he appear. The arcanagram which had made his escape possible bore no space for location. Perhaps an addition to that would suffice.

If he were to appear in his City Manor, Mit-Cuid, his only hope was that the sanctums he had cast in protecting it would suffice. Giving key objects in the residence a limited consciousness always prooved effective.

"Yeah right, alims," C'ang, the Warven, once said when they were both locked out of the front gate. "So good dey even kip da ownahs away!"

Needless to say Orleon had a new gate forged.

Smiling at the memory, and desiring more of Rivermoon, The Notar concluded that he needed more research, thinking on it, he began to pen in his journals the reading and visits of the night before, as well as other things.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-05 10:05 EST
She wandered back to his porch, bearing a small basket. Within it was a trigger spell. She smiled slightly as she knocked. She figured he'd be happy with what it did. She knocked three times then stepped back.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-08 18:19 EST
The Notar placed his stylus upon the stand, unable truly to finish his place in the majesty of the words. During the writing Templeton always felt elated, yet it did not compare with the sound and fury of scribing in the tongue of the ancient N'tar Empire. Nothing compared to perfecting that composition of a language which perfectly mimicked the universe. For that reason it had been so easy to draw the symbols from the people of Rhydin. As that realization came into his mind, Orleon discovered that he did not the city, despite the fact that he had spent so many months there. As his journal told, so much time spent on the components of the world around him that he forgot the world around him.

Then a knock came upon the door.

Templeton heard the knock on the door; his ink collecting into a long drip onto the paper. Remembering that he had no appointments for that time he grew suspicious. Drawing a solid cartouche of an eye in ancient N'tar- the front of the house opened to his vision. There among the hundreds of hanging bottles, amidst the random paraphanelia, notes, texts, scrolls, cases, lanterns, tea cups, kettles, and bits of coin stood Shadow facing with what appeared to be a basket from the Notar's viewpoint. The researcher smiled, apparently the symbols had scried better than he had anticipated. This happens at times if the person presented to be more receptive. And she did appear more open than the others.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-09 15:23 EST
Shadow stepped back, going to sit as Orleon looked outside. She shivered at the magic. Her eyes flashing red as her form flickered for several moments. The basket hit the porch as her form solidified. Her eyes blazing a blood red.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-10 10:22 EST
Left on the table, the ornate red book opened to the last entry. The Notar's thoughts for all to see:

"All this time, I have discovered exactly how often I am distracted from the real objective- what is to be the true goal. It is even happening here, though far away from Rivermoon. In that city, blessed and shining, with balconies along the crescented river, my goal pointed to finding the omnis arcana (the one spell) and yet I was distracted by manipulating the sacred tongue into the first person; and thus manipulating my own reality. I saw the error of this too late before I suffered imprisonment, perhaps even justly.

Escape then became my only goal, which it would be to any man. I achieved it only through excruciating circumstances and holding absolutely no control. Thus I am here. And if escape was paramount in the Rivermoon carcerator then return to the city that once condemned me became my primary goal.

The undeniable curiosity of the arcana here in Rhydin made it worth the effort of exploring. Rhydin does not resemble Rivermoon in that each creature appears to contain a certain level of arcanum. Here they term it, rather commonly, as magic, though it appears on my own Prytanian continent that would be used to refer to illusion. While my own is firmly grounded in the N'tar, that ancient and divine code of symbols by which the entire universe is represented under the pen of the scribe; the "majic" here in Rhydin simply eminates from its people. Surely this must point to the defining classification of this realm. For only worlds or areas which have such ready access to all interpretations of the arcana enjoy the full spectrum of its existence and must, on some level, be connected to the realities where said arcanas originate.

Considering my situation this demands further research.

Such a task I would begin with bringing a being from a realm completely void of magic. A world that has no knowledge of the great power of the arcane. It would have to be a brutal world indeed, filled with machines that think for their masters. A planet perhaps no longer (if ever) infused with a hunger for exploration but rather obsessed with meaningless pursuits of exploitive knowledge. A member of that world; void of amazement, in any way would be the control group. If that person were to eminate arcana, would be able to wield arcane power, then this place would surely be a nexus.

Again I digress. My entire life has been utterly victimized by my distractions of knowledge. Yet without them I would not have amassed my knowledge base- nor my collections of arcanum (in some cases proudly rare) at Mit- Ciud- my manor in Rivermoon off of Cai Magus.

The fauna and componets about Rhydin emanate such power, the natural porduct of its people, that long ago I decided to concentrate my studies herein. Living in this shack I have logged and chronicled over thirty-five volumes of the Compendium Alcemico Rhydineste. It is not for publication, but reserved for whomever I apprentice- if anyne. My success in mastering this land's compendium made me consider that even if I find a way back to Rivermoon, I may keep this humble home open for further research and revenue. For here, unlike Rivermoon, there has been a great desire for divination, fortune- telling seems to be the secular term for it here, and that is a near obsession.

My research, for my theories had to be proven with product, a product that hangs nearly by the thousands from the porch of this house, and the opportunity to reap some very solid rewards from this city; have again deterred me from the prime criteria- returning to my Rivermoon.

Or has it been more complex than that? I am not sure if, when I recreate the Grafica back to Rivermoon, will I return to my cell. Has that kept me here? Though the idea of a nexus is without a doubt a point of considerable debait, but if it is true....."

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-10 11:35 EST
'Not used to being scried, milady?' the Notar thought pushing the knob of the small house and entering into the porch. Looking at the basket, Templeton offered a seat to Shadow. He smiled, and appeared to enjoy the brief relief in his studies. With a gesture, the alchemist flipped his stylus into his vest. The morning appeared crisp and cool, with a symbol upon supporting beam, the temperature increased in the surrounding. The Notar looked to the tea kettle and moved to bring it to boil. The early sun still had not found the strength to rise in the East.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-10 14:08 EST
She sat, rubbing her face with her hands as she allowed her energy to drain away. "No..I'm not really. You magic feels so different, and with the moodswings I've been having..Ug! I nearly attacked..I'm not supposed to be this on edge....Oh yeah!" She looked up and grinned. "I brought you a gift.." She gestured at the basket.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-12 20:29 EST
Templeton, taken aback by the sudden show of emotion, looked at the basket before him on the porch. Unaccustomed by displays of generosity, all he could do was smile. Yet somewhere he wondered what could Shadow possibly give him. What do you give the alchemist who has everything he needs?

Yet what is it that the Notar truly needed? It was at that moment that the first thoughts of the Grafica dawned on him. Months ago, in the prisons of Rivermoon, the Notar slaved against all odds to create a cartouche on the floor of his cell to escape. The long and inspiring conversation with Kairee, surprisingly illuminating and informative, gave the former resident of Rivermoon a flood of ideas. Finally, to return to his beloved city would be his prime goal. The casual talk on the porch with Kairee had brought out of his mind nostalgic images of Rivermoon. This time he would be exact and create his Grafica so precise that he would not only land in Mit-Ciud, but land in his favorite chair. A goal was no pronounced.

"A gift?" Orleon said, his voice emerging scratched, much to his annoyance. "It is a gesture that I am not accustomed to. What is it?"

Templeton had his stylus handy, his mind filled with the possible images of his future Grafica.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-13 16:59 EST
She smiled and sat up a little. This was her realm of expertise, using her magic to help others. Make their lives a little better. "It's a trigger spell..It'll activate when you open the basket. It will give you what you are thinking of at the time..Be careful though, if you don't specify an amount it'll either flood you with it or it'll explode..I don't think it'll work with people or animals, but it should work with plants and metals..Or clothing and weapons."

A small sparkle danced in her eyes. "Do you like it?....Or were you thinking of something bigger, like a gateway?.."

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-13 19:57 EST
"A um Gateway, you say?" Orleon said, for a moment considering bypassing the hard work and long hours he would spend creating the Grafica back to Rivermoon. "No, I have need of a gateway that is true, but alas I must do it myself, or else it will not work, or worse, it will not matter."

Orleon rounded the basket, shooing T'Lor from sniffing it and possibly triggering it completely. The Accidental Alchemist wondered if it had truly arcanical techniques or if it operated on alchemical properties. Research never stopped for the Notar, life turning into a constant array of explorations in the realm of knowledge. Yet something burned in him. While Kairee offered a way of attaining his final goodbyes to Rhydin, the Notar suddenly realized that he had barely seen the city of Rhydin. Before his journey, and perhaps as preparation, the former apprentice would just have to tour the city of Rhydin. In that fashion the Grafica would have more information to go on and establish a greater foundation.

Again the patterns came to mind, and Orleon imagined the lvish curves and buttresses that would make up the Grafica. Containing at the very least four sectors, the image would best serve him permanently. Surely the shack would need security spells to protect it, and the Grafica would need a subcell in its syntax to act as a trigger. Of course without question the furniture would have to be moved. All this would have to be preceded by the collecting of supplies. Truly said, who knows where he would land in Rivermoon. Thus...

"Though I must say it is rather curious, how does it work?"

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-14 11:17 EST
She paused a moment looking mildly baffled. "How does it work?.....You know, I've never thought about that...I don't know.." A thoughtful look crosses her face as she ponders the possibilities. "Well, it could pull from the nearest source, but that wouldn't explain flooding...It could be like the Nexus, doing a universal search and pulling from there to fill the need...That wouldn't explain exploding though...I don't know.."

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-14 21:33 EST
Templeton shook his head, never encountered a wielder of arcana that did not understand from where it came from. He not only shook his head, but it also shook him. His sect, the Notars, made it their goal in their lives of study to understand the intricate workings of their syntax, the supernatural weave that dominated the universe. Interpreted by their language, the weave, that sacred impulse of symbols and cornered borders that allowed the scribe to manipulate the world and thus dominate it.

And oh so successful in that endeavor. Lead by the Notars, and the Imper King, the N'tar once dominated the entire continent under their manipulation. Leading armies, the thin monks armed only with writing materials, a stylus, like an arcane staff, conjured entire armies to combat the barbaric invaders from the islands to the south.

Thus the legends told, thus the inspirations for the remainders of the order. The tall tales keeping the brotherhood together until the second coming of Imperial Power.

Orleon again wondered if he should use the mechanics of the spell or dismember its contents and try to contain it in a cartouche. Already he thought of the patterns that would be used; a buttress would have to go in the Northwest quadrant. The South would be occupied by the repitition of the spell, for it would surely be a matter of casting it over and over again.

Yet to think that this being, perhaps even a Dragon, did not know the skeleton, the syntax of its work astounded him. The Nexus that served as the center of this city surely provided an infinite array of knowledge.

Templeton, suddenly took a look of concern. What would occur, what would consequent if one of these beings descended upon Rivermoon. For only Rivermoon could handle such power, but would that power continue. All of this only served to be fuel for his chronicles. All of Rhydin must fit in his studies, be packed into his Cronicas Biblios, the library from which he observed the various parts of the realm, which was quickly expanding into a multiverse.

"No, no, surely you must know what constitutes this spell." Orleon said, turning to a kettle, readying himself to boil some tea. "But if you say it is a repetitive enchantment, then I thank you, for my journey I will have need of it. In preparation..."

'Without a doubt a Hujian claritea would be needed here, the herbs wlift the mind and allow one to understand the great void that is Ignorance,' the Notar thought to himself- itching to get to his journal.

"Would you care for some enlightening tea, expanding the senses, while we speak of it?" Templeton said, pointing to a chair.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-16 13:20 EST
She blushed brightly and rubbed the back of her neck looking rather embarrassed. "I know, weird right? I'm a Dragon, a mage for Pete's sake! And yet I can't even explain how my own spell works." She sat. "Yes, tea would be good. What do you mean by expanding the senses?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry, my thoughts are rather disjointed at the moment. Not your fault, but I appear to be getting a new ability that's rather hard to control..At all. It's getting to be a very big inconvenience."

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-16 23:58 EST
"I am sorry but something seems to have emerged from my homeland, it is....

The Notar staggered, holding the kettle of water, his eyes upon the rising flame. Conjured by the strongest of powers, the scribe suddenly saw it. Saw it all. The entire formula of the Nexus expanded before him. Strange, strange, as if a bolt of lightening in the air about him, could it take him in this way?

Orleon knew, and knew well, this was the symbol.

As if a golem, the alchemist shook the branches of his mind, there among the leaves and coral, was the symbol, the spare tangent cross that crosses and moved about the boundaries in the N'tar tongue. So simple suddenly.

The measure.

For in that measure was the means, the means to head home, upon the arcing fourth degree stood a minor symbol in the cartouche. And all that ran through his mind, ran as an army of 'done' rather than an army of 'could be'.

Again Orleon staggered, forgetting the world, forgetting the realm that stood before him. Nothing seemed to matter and the mage feel upon the double couch before, laden in hide and fur.

It all rose and fell before his eyes, and with a cramp upon his arm he reached for his stylus. Reaching deep into the folds of his robes (which eagerly gave him the instrument) Orleon drew his 'magna'. There upon the world before him awaited the possibility. A possibility ignited by one stroke. Thus Orleon did strike in the air one slash, and upon those about him stood a world unknown....

Rivermoon opened. Not a portal, but only a possibility. There a greatness, a city of absolute abandoned splendor waiting. For there beyond the eyelet visible on that petty porch in that city called Rhydin, stood a metropolis that rose with iron and wooden balconies accented only by patios of tranquil light. There, among the locals, revelers rang the bells of chaos that hung upon every corner of every street. Masked and unworthy, the revelers moved, a march of sensual sight of sound, anticipating every color of the rainbow, covered only by a mist, a cloud, nothing but of breath of legality.

Templeton exhaled, clutching his arm and feeling the pain in his heart. For it was final, it was final that he would come home. Come Home and perhaps disappear from every shred of Rhydin...

'Regrecas,' Orleon whispered, in that wondrous tongue of the N'tar. His form catatonic among the vision of his homeland. With only a last shred of decency and strength he spoke to the flattering form before him, before passing out.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-17 15:30 EST
Shadow shivered at the magic, catching the energy, and the barest trace of the symbols. Like written in flame they shimmered to her already raw and bettered senses, it burned steadily in her mind for a minute. Then she caught a glimpse of his home, a beautiful city, glowing and sharp-edged to her. Felt a blast of pain from Orleon. She heard him say 'Regrecas' and then fall over.

She got up and rushed to his side. "Aw crap. Orleon! Orleon, wake up! ORLEON!" By the end of it she was yelling, not shaking him just yelling. She then felt for a pulse and when she found it, it was wrong. Beating oddly, with no rhythm at all. She cursed a few minutes then asked. "Should I try to fix this? Or should I simply stand guard?"

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-21 21:59 EST
The symbol came to his mind clear as the first day of life. It glowed there in his vision glowing. Overwhelmed, the cartouche fed from Templeton's life force, as he did from it. The two, the newly acquired symbol and the scribe began a symbiosis that would last the rest of his days.

With a wild motion, gulping down air into his depleted lungs, Orleon flung his cloak aside; the object desperately trying to attend to its master. His sight clouded, but his stylus flung to his hand, spinning in a loud and sharp arc into his grip. Templeton gasped, filling his lungs as his eyes rolled about. Shadow appeared to disappear from his consciousness. No longer responsible for his actions, the Notar lifted his arm, the stylus extended and slashed the air before him. Writing the cipher with the strokes of a swordsman, his body curved and pushed forward. The divine ink flowed from the sacred machinery of the stylus, a magical staff to any other arcane-user. The Arcon, arcane symbol, flashed and ignited the oxygen around it, reaching deep into the multiverse, pushing the boundaries of reality, and shortening the distances between worlds.

Templeton, flung back in his chair by the power of the portal, smiled and laughed, the air from his native land streaming through the gateway. His lungs filled with the scent of Prytania....

And before them, in the shape of a large mirror, there appeared Rivermoon.

At first difficult to see, blowing in the wind the shining surface of millions of tiny pieces and ribbons of colored paper. Looking from the point of view of a balcony high over Plaz du Crimson, the central plaza of the port city, one could make out revelers in all types of costume. The structures of wood, white-washed stone, and marble held a multitude of debauchery and spilled wine. The streets appeared filled with all sort of arcane citizens. Taking advantage of the city's freedom on the arcane arts, they celebrated under the ignored eye of the Notars. Drink flowed in rivers, gushing and curling at the corners. The source of that pilsner flood, the Milkmoon Tavern, where many of the warriors came to celebrate the founding of Rivermoon.

For Templeton heard the joy of the metropolis of his birth, and responded accordingly.

About the streets, marked by solid silver plaques calling the Ruiz's, came processions of various magic- wielding groups. Giant wagons manipulated by transmuters and conjurers, bending the physical laws, sculpted from wood, stone, metal and even flowers to create a flotilla. From their high positions, kings and dukes of surrounding provinces showered the crowds with potions, weapons and gold coin- all of which would disappear once the festival was over. Yet all the treasures were used to exchange anything and everything throughout those two weeks, culminating with the march of the Crimson Brotherhood throughout the city.

The free and eager delight of thousands within Rivermoon showered upon the Notar from far-off Rhydin. The scribe had only been able to manifest enough power to create a seeing-portal. Unable or unfit to travel back, Orleon simply sat at his chair, watching the rejoicing of his fellow citizens.

Scratching out a phrase, the Notar spoke. "Shadow, if, if you will excuse me, I must begin work on the Arcon to return to my land, as you can see, it is worth returning too."

And with a stroke of his quill, the vision dissipated, the sounds of music and shouting still evident in the air for a few moments.

Firebreath

Date: 2007-02-22 16:53 EST
Her jaw dropped as Orleon sat up and for a few minutes appeared almost catatonic while opening a portal. Once it was open she watched in amazement. The music, sights, sounds, all an asault on her senses; it stunned her though.

It took her several minutes to remember how to speak, and when she did her voice was filled with wonder. "Y-You come from...There?" A point at the spot where the mirror had been. "T-That's your magic? You grew up there?...." What he said finally sunk in. "Of, of course. Tell me if there's any way I can help."

With that she got up off the spot she'd fallen to when the portal opened, dusted herself off and started down his stairs.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2007-02-25 21:18 EST
If not for the sweat upon his brow and the sight of
Shadow beside him there would have been no way for
Orleon to tell if he were in Rivermoon or Rhydin.
Missing the former with all his heart, with his soul
bleeding beyond the limits of his torso, he shook
head when Shadow spoke to him. The words seemed simply
incomprehensionable, moving the thoughts in to his
mind with a speed that he thought impossible.
Templeton weeped, tears slowly moving from his eyelids
and down his face with a passion.

"No, No, I do not need help, I only need time and
solitude to think," the Notar said with a breath.
"The sacred tongue, and a job of only one. But I thank
you with all the knowledge that runs in my veins. I
thank you."

Orleon picked the basket up with his hands trembling.
Turning to the entrance of his home, he looked about,
as if leaving the place forever. Which was a distinct
possibility. Muttering to himself, Templeton began
to resite the recipes, fonts, formulas, cartouches,
symbols needed to create the Grafica.

For the Grafica had to be created.

"No I must do this alone, I must return to Rivermoon,"
he said, gripping the door and looking behind him.
The expression on his face appeared foreign, and as
he spoke his voice became nearly intelligeble, as if
he were speaking a foreign language.

A language whose home lay very far away.

Orleon Templeton

Date: 2008-02-06 12:23 EST
The sorcerer looked out from the Alchemist's immense windows, losing his concentration momentarily faded the mirage of himself shimmering in the Inn. But at times the mind needed this bit of relaxation. The city, this city, spread quietly after a month of complete abandon. Templeton looked down, seeing the streets pouring its final contents of Ale into the sewers below.

The small bits of notes that he had written at the Inn, at the very least a concentrated manifestation, did not prove very helpful.

Thus Templeton entered his Kronos room, from there he could peer into the great cosmos. There waiting for situations to develop.

Odd that no customers had shown up, were there not a huge denizen of warriors raiding dungeons or picking temples clean of unnecessary magical items?

Dungeoneer

Date: 2008-04-13 01:30 EST
Perhaps it was the air or the quality that moved him, but the Dungeoneer, the strange assassin of quarry far deep within the reaches of said temple, moved into the direction of the Magi's shoppe. Large and imposing was the place there, and he moved with a quickness that was odd for him.