"Uneventful," said Gwyria with a careless shrug. "Pickpockets are as numerous as they ever were, though - my daggers have been increasingly useful of late." Her smile in return was unusually bloodthirsty for one so diminutive.

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"Conjuring a fire elemental?" Marvilan inquired. "You must excuse my ignorance. Our kind is not used to magical stuff. We usually just test and experiment things if we want to achieve magical results. But then again, a great philosopher did say, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.' I'm Marvilan, by the way."

He laughed to themselves at the thought of them being bewildered by a fire elemental in a public area. Undoubtedly it was either a mass hallucination or seeming the sun was playing tricks to their eyes.

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I was cured all right.

Ditto to what Nauriel said, LDM. Your posts are great.

-----

Feyl's smile turned patronizing.

"Of course. The town is boring, after all," he replied to the Kor'daeran. The whole story had come out over a few mugs of ale in a tavern in Ken'this. From there, travellers had taken it to other cities. Right now, it was one of the chief sources of amusement in Kor'da'this.

When the Bekaran came up, and pitched in his statement, Feyl just glanced at him for a minute, twisting his palm in an odd manner. A moment later, a fireball flared into existence on his palm. It was one of the few spells that didn't have to be spoken--it could just be thought, with the proper gestures.

"Magic is an important part of the lives of my people," he said, waving his hand. The fireball vanished. "It makes up the greater part of how we live--we do almost everything with it. If you are interested, I'm sure we could teach you something about our arts, Marvilan."

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"Undoubtedly interesting," Marvilan said, a bit sardonically. "You guys should come to Djedeka. Giant skyscapers that reflect the sun's light. Rows and rows of robots, working to glorify our cities. Most of us hardly have to work now. We are free to pursue whatever art we like."

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I was cured all right.

[thanks. same right back at you ]

Placed on the defensive at the assault to his precious magic, Aedhon bristled at Marvilan's tone. He appraised the Bekaran, who looked to be nothing more than a simple killing machine. He eyed solar panels, metal appendages, and less than natural eyes... All right, perhaps not so simple. And perhaps a formidable ally nonetheless... and a lethal adversary.

Nonetheless, he could not refrain himself from snapping out a retort. "Perhaps someday you can show us this inhumanity you call art," he said, every inch the courteous albeit curious acquaintance.

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Marvilan stared back at his blue eyes. So pathetic, these people are, he thought. They think they have reached the pinnacle of their abilities and knowledge. "Before I was asked to take part of this," Marvilan said. "I happened to draw. Well, in fact. My index finger was modified with a drawing laser. There are many other forms of art that have evolved with our technology. While we still take part and appreciate oil paintings and clay sculptures, we also sculpt metals into statues, create mosaics with different colours of stones and metals. It's quite fascinating." Better than muttering harsh words, he thought. I suppose they think that they know more about art just because all they have to do is utter a few words and they think they have a masterpiece. Truly pathetic.

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I was cured all right.

Threng perked up at the mention of art. "I'm an artist" He mentioned. "Well, with clay, I mean...I'm no good with pencils and such." Nolani nodded. Though his finhers were big, they were nimble and presice. His works were as beautiful as any she had seen. She unclasped her necklace: the beads had been carved and molded by Threng. Twined into the cord were beads in the shape of animals Threng admired: a cat, a raven, a snake, a bear, and in the center an intricate wolf. The clay was a dark red, providing contrast to the pale sand color of the cord that held the beads together. She held it out so any who wished could inspect his art.

Curious, Eshtok stood and moved closer to Threng and Nolani. He bent over the string of beads, admiring them. "You made these?" he asked the Laude. "They're beautiful."

Threng blushed slightly and nodded. "Clay that color is hard to find, but very easy to work with. Its so beautiful on its own it doesn't need paint. Which is good, because I'll clumbsy with a brush."

Eshtok smiled. "I'm clumsy with any sort of art. My hands are made for working and fighting. That's about all. I do like stories, though." he paused, then explained quickly. "Telling stories, or coming up with my own."

Feyl shook himself. They had an urgent quest to discuss, and here he was gaping at one of the most famous Mages in the land? That was not going to get the job done. The Bekaran wasn't helping much, either, what with his discussion of the beauty of Djedeka.

"I presume you have questions about our quest, then?" he asked to nobody in particular--they all had wandered over to him as though ready to ask him something, after all. If they had done that just to socialize, well, they probably still had questions, and he seemed to be the only one with enough knowledge about the Gohl to be able to answer them--except for Dorlan, that is. The silent Guardian had been present for all of those meetings, and he had an eidetic memory--that had proven to be very useful at times, since Feyl could ask him what a spell was if he himself didn't remember it.

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"Yes, oddly enough, I do have a question," Marvilan said. "What are we exactly fighting against?"

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I was cured all right.

Eshtok looked up a bit guiltily from the string of beads. He should have been paying more attention to the events at hand.

Feyl frowned. Hadn't they already been informed about the Gohl? What in the name of Light were they doing here if they didn't know what they were up against?!? Still, maybe the Bekaran wanted to know more specific things about their foe.

"The Gohl, as much as we could tell from what the Witnesses said, exist in their corporeal forms as four-legged monstrosities, with claws dripping venom. Their eyes seemed to glow red or green, their jaws seemed full of razor-sharp fangs," Feyl said.

He shrugged. "But that is the report of a man who saw his friends torn to pieces before his eyes--they may not be so fearsome, or they may looks worse. From his account, though, they have an aura of fear around them--the closer they are, the more frightened a person gets, and the more frightened they are, the more clumsy. You might find it difficult to fight properly should you come across one, though we do not know if they still project this aura when they have possessed someone on this side of the Archway."

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"Very well," Marvilan said. "Nothing a good pull of the trigger or stab of the blade can't handle." However, he doubted about the rest of them. The magic may have its uses though.

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I was cured all right.

"I have a question," Garex said bluntly, without much regard for tact or protocol. The reticent Guardian stood behind Aedhon with his arms folded across his chest. "Is this a suicide mission?"

Ever the optimist, Aedhon thought dryly, though he couldn't deny that his Guardian's inquiry had been a sound one. In truth, he'd been wondering much the same thing himself. Why else would the rulers of their respective races choose capable but otherwise mediocre candidates, if not because they were expendable? With some trepidation he looked towards Feyl.

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