An Argument about Artifice

Just west of the Northern Highbridge and east of the arena, commerce blooms. Noisy and bustling, most anything may be purchased here for a price. Vendors from all cultures sell their wares from exotically colored carts, and the smells of different nations and far-off city-states mix with local ones from Alexandria and its riverbanks.

For all its commerce, visitors are advised to keep hold of their purses. Even the merchants possess a certain, cunning look. Most are positioned at carts or stalls as opposed to a formal storefront, with trade here being mobile, and visiting from all parts of the world.

Though the quality of goods suffers here compared to Upper Alexandria, the options are more diverse. Too, the oversight of the Watch is slightly less, and during times events are held at the Arena, chaos abounds. After dark, the square becomes a hangout for bards and other entrepreneurs whose business is best conducted by night; the shadows at the edges of the square often contain furtive figures engaging in their own brand of business.

Blinking as he hears the commotion in the market, Raethon walks his way over towards the sound, which happens to be Solace. He takes a good look at Solace and makes a face. "Solace....are you all right?" He says nudging Solace on the arm.

The door to the nearby Pub thumps open. Lamplight floods the street, just before the shadows of two men fill it. Svarshan thumps down the steps, followed by a swaying man in leather armor. The reptile wears his own armor today, polished to a bluish-white shine, and engraved with symbols of Am'shere's Queen, and the Platinum Dragon.

"Hah! Gods, that was a round..." the second says.

As the door swings closed, so does the sound of cheering and evening

Cesran comes walking into the local market and he hmms softly as he is looking at a letter. It has embellished lettering on it and at the top bears the seal of a tower on an island. He deftly steps around a pile of horse manure as he continues through the market place.

Tak is lazing about today, he walks through the evening market while eating an apple with his right hand. In his left hand, he is juggling two more of them, just sending them up in the air one after the other. Perhaps he got too hungry to juggle three.

Solace jumps as Raethon nudges him on the arm. The merchant looks rather relieved to have the over-excited artificer distracted. Solace turns, and - still gesturing rather wildly - says, "I am better than all right. I am /inspired/. I've figure it out. Not /everything/, of course, but I am finally catching glimpses of the deeper mysteries of the discipline. I am beginning to /understand/, Raethon! It is fantastic." Then he scowls, and points at the merchant. "Or it WOULD be, if this utter cad did not have refuse to give me the parts I need!"

"Can't give you what I don't got, mister," the merchant says, putting his hands up.

People are scattered about the market, on errands and evening excursions. Svarshan's just emerged from the pub, Cesran and Tak are walking through, and Solace and Raethon are by an artificer parts seller.

"I'll see you at practi...you're allowed to do that now?" asks the tall man in leathers. As he tilts his head, a pointed ear peeks through the hair.

Svarshan shrugs, and then lifts his hand, wobbling it back and forth. The other man nods and wobble-heads towards the pub's hitching posts. ...the hitching posts. A number of mounts stand there, of all shapes and sizes, given the variety that is Alexandria. He heads towards one with a reddish coat and blackened mane.

Svarshan starts to follow, and then spies the gobber. He scratches at his throat and begins to wander over to watch, with a nod at Cesran, Raethon, and Solace as he does. ...and then he slows, and stares at the half-sildanyari.

Raethon smirks a bit to Solace and pats him on the arm. He then looks to the merchant. "How about you find a way to get this man the parts he needs before he decides to shop elsewhere." He then looks more directly to Solace. "Solace.....calm down, as much as you are inspired, you should get some rest. Understanding something is nothing if you pass out from exhaustion right in the middle of an experiment." He then pats Solace on the arm. "Now what was the part you needed. The Illudium Pew 36 Explosive Space modulator?"

Cesran hmms as he rolls up the piece of paper and he slips it into the sleeves of his robes. He catches the nod from Svarshan and he raises his hand. He looks around the market place for a moment and hmms softly, "Well this is a conundrum." He turns as he hears Raethon, "What do you need that for?"

Tak spots a few folks with names that are known around the guild, and stops his movement through the market near Solace, watching the half-elf. Tak continues to juggle with his left hand, taking another bite out of his third apple.

Bondi rolls over onto his back and quickly bolts upright, quickly going from lying face down asleep to sitting upright a short ways down from the artificer's cart. Mumbling unintelligibly, he gives a squeaky yawn and stretches his arms high into the air. Bringing his pack around into his lap, he rifles through it groggily, his eyes taking in the evening shopper traffic.

The merchant stares helplessly at Raethon. "I can't just conjure mana conduits out of thin air, you know. There's only so many, and the last of that model,"

"Model 821ZX," Solace puts in, shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, as if at any moment, he might lose the last of his patience and flit away.

"Yes, that," the merchant says, with a nod, "I don't /have/ that. I won't get any more until the next shipment comes in. Could be tomorrow." "Could?" Solace makes a frustrated noise. "Not good enough. I need to work now. And sleep is irrelevant," he adds, an aside to Raethon. Cesran's voice, a new addition, has him turning. "Suppressing the tendency of mana to escape the engine when it's not being directly fueled by the creator's aura. Obviously. It turns out it's a simple matter of /materials/. And, of course, days of meticulous calculations. Now I need to test the theory, but..." he runs his hands through his short hair, "I can't believe I didn't see it before, really." He grins at them both, a slightly unsettling sight on the half-elf's usually dour and cynical features. "Would you like to /see/?"

Cesran moves over towards the pair, "Have you tried a Lofstrom positronic cylinder? It should create a loop that you are looking for that will slow down the loss of mana. At least in theory. I have never tried it, but I know the theory of it." He offers his suggestion as he hmms and looks around, "I need to find someone that sells exotic types of wood." He thinks out loud.

Raethon grips Solace's shirt quietly. "I don't want to see anything you've done until you've gotten a few hours of sleep. I'll tell you what Solace. You go and get some rest, and I'll make sure you get the part you need." he then thinks. "The 821ZX." He then looks to the Merchant. "I'll be here with you to make sure you get the shipment in, and his part." He then looks back to Solace. "I much as I admire your inspiration, there's only so much a body can do, Solace." He then blinks at Cesran. "Only he knows what he's talking about. I don't speak artificer."

Tak shakes his head as he listens in on the conversation of the artificer. "You know, while drive and ambition are admirable, it’s that same thing that leads to people blowing up buildings or opening portals in the Fernwood pub. Perhaps it would be best if folks weren't so obsessed with their research thingies."

Svarshan looks that way and shudders, and continues to stare. Eventually, a ripple makes its way through his shoulders and he looks back at the Pub and then out again. ...after a period of measured thought he begins to make his way past, moving. As. Unobtrusively. As. A. Clanky. Can.

Sandy is arriving, of course. This is unsurprising. She's usually showing up where there' trouble she can make or something. At any rate, she stops dead at the traffic in the immediate area and the faces amongst that traffic she recognizes. Mostly, it's the faces. There's always traffic.

Solace stares at Cesran, his expression torn between resentment and a dawning interest. "...that /could/ work. I think. Yes..." He does some rapid calculations in his head, his fingers twitching. "Yes, yes, that would do just fine, so long as I cycled the manaflow at the right velocity." His eyes snap back to Cesran. "NOT that this means I am conceding that you know as much about artifice as one who has dedicated their life to the study of it," he adds, pointing a finger. "But I...thank you for the suggestion, nevertheless. And," he frowns at Tak, "I never blow anything up unless I intend to." A pause. "/Mostly/. And even then, they're only small explosions. Barely noticeable." It's around now he notices two things - one, Raethon actually has a hold of his shirt. And two, there's a paladin hilariously failing to be sneaky clanking around in the background. "Svarshan! Tell the bard I don't blow things up," he calls out. "Or...gesture it, or something." Then he moves to - gently - remove the elf's hand from his shirt. "And I do not /need/ to sleep. Not just yet. I'm onto something." He sighs. "Useless elf blood; didn't give me the /one/ thing that's actual useful..."

Raethon stares at Solace. "Yes you do, Solace. I can SEE the fatigue upon your face. GO and get some rest, Solace. You really do need it."

Svarshan freezes in his tracks. The head does not turn. The eye observes, flicking over to look at the horde of scarily-gabbering-arcanists with their whirligigs and whatchahoozits and oh gosh it's time for tea and my daily blowing up of the world, pass the crackers??

And he lowers his foot and looks towards the stars, to Eluna. For Wisdom. For Strength.

And then turns to look at the continuing-to-be scarily gabbering arcanist-peoples with potential-finger-waggling discussing concepts such as precog, space modulators, and who in other lives, may have developed a set of white shoes with red soles on them...

...and...

Raises a hand.

Hi. Then, he makes a point of looking Very Doubtfully at Solace. VERY. DOUBTFUL. And then he looks towards Raethon and points to him, as though saying: Look. See? Sensible.

Cesran snorts softly at Raethon, "Hardly, with the proper application of magic the limits of the body can be expanded and transcended, at least temporarily. I can make fighters stronger, rogues quicker, wizard smarter, clerics wiser, paladins tougher and sorcerers flashier." He inclines his head, "As I have always said I just studied magetech. I know the theories because knowledge is power, but I could not empower your creations as you do. I would need mana crystals to power any magetech that I would make and those can be expensive. I have other things to spend my platinum on." He looks over to Tak and he shrugs, "Invention is 1% inspiration, 99% detonation." He goes to raise a hand to Svarshan, "Hello Svarshan. How are you doing?"

Cesran turns back to Solace, "Speaking of Artifice, I have recently helped to capture one of those artifice submersible."

"Oh dear," remarks Sandy with a hint of amusement in her voice and sarcasm right along with it. "You can’t force an inspired inventor to stop and rest. Rest might make him lose the thread. That's just the way it works." She makes her way closer to the group of gathered, familiar adventurers.

"What the hell brought /this/ little cluster on, eh?" She's looking between them, then, squinting warily. She's expecting problems. Any moment now.

Tak shrugs faintly, he still hasn't stopped juggling his other two apples, maybe it’s just easier to hold them that way. He takes another bite of his third apple, now leaving it a core. "That phrase is only used by those who blow things up. I doubt the loom was created during a massive explosion, or the wheel, or a thousand other breakthroughs. You’re just trying to put a good light on the fact more than half the artifacers are crazy and only amusing when they blow themselves up."

Solace bahs at Raethon, and then at Svarshan, too. "You don't understand at all," he tells them both. Only to have unexpected support from Cesran and...Sandy? Ye gods. Suspiciously, he nods at them both. "Exactly. And I might be interested in some of those enhancements, Cesran. There are only so many hours in a day...getting more accomplished would be a boon..." and then Cesran mentions the subs, and all other thoughts fly out of the artificer's brain. "REALLY? Where is it? What was it like? Is it a marvel? Is it /intact/?" He's...not exactly proving Tak wrong, here. His mouth twitches at Tak's comment, and Svarshan looks from the juggler and back again. After a while he...he reaches underneath his cloak, and takes out a slate. He writes, the words slow and careful. Labourous. I have...done. Many foolish things in. My life. Once I bound artifice...to me. It is power. ...it is pain.

He stops after that, looking into nothing for a while. Thinking. And then lowers the tablet.

Raethon facepalms.....hard, at Cesran. He could've convinced the obviously weary half-elf to go to sleep if he kept an eye out for the part. Now the human has just undone everything he just tried to do. His eyes blink in frustration and his fingers curl, but he keeps quiet, not saying another word to Solace, nor Cesran, but turning towards Svarshan and taking a deep breath, and speaking in draconic 'Peace upon your nest, brightscale.'

Cesran rolls his eyes at Tak, "The only reason those things happened without explosions is because explosions weren't invented yet. And look how long it took to invent things like that. The wheel alone took thousands of years. With a well-placed explosion the wheel would have been knocked out in one afternoon." He sighs softly, "I am afraid that my research has not gone in the direction of enchanting items of fantastical power. I could recommend that you speak with Mikilos, he is a good friend of mine. However if you need weapons and/or armor enchanted to be mighty or invincible that I can do." He looks over at Raethon and the wizard is not blind, "However rest does help to restore the mind. It lets one start fresh with new eyes and to travel different paths that one might not consider when tired. If you get some rest I shall find you and show you were its docked. It is fully intact and working. Since I helped to liberate it I am allowed access to it."

The conversation she's hearing makes Sandy's ears twitch. Then she pinches the bridge of her nose. Them she shakes her head and turns towards Cesran and says, interestedly, "/Did/ you now. That is actually pretty interesting. Surprised they didn't scuttle the damn thing before you could get your hands on it." Then she squints at Cesran a bit more actively, shrugs, then says to Svarshan, "Huh."

Tak snorts at Cesran. "You realize that over half of all research involving explosions is for weaponry? Do you see where things are headed? Does the history of this world teach us nothing, look carefully at the amount of deaths involved in warfare a thousand years ago and now. In another thousand years perhaps we will have destroyed the entire world through artifice. It has a place, I will not deny that, but I think there should be more temperance in its development, that’s all."

As excited as he is, Solace stops and waits for Svarshan to write. It's clear that it's difficult for the makar, and that seems to deserve consideration. He frowns at the words, though. "Fusing artifice to your body is a risky proposition at the best of times. Oh, I have some ideas, but the theory isn't yet strong enough to test..." he trails off. "Wait. What /happened/ to it? I didn't notice any when you were wearing the frilly robes." But that is a minor mystery in comparison to getting his hands on that ship. He stares at Cesran. "Whatever price you ask, I will pay it, to simply have the opportunity to explore those mechanisms." He's also not completely oblivious to Raethon's frustration. He side-eyes the elf, then says, "Will it make you feel any better to know that I /will/ sleep. Eventually."

Raethon shakes his head. 'not until you actually sleep, Solace. I'm not making a headstone that says 'He finally went to sleep'."

I constructed...armor...once. Like yours. Some part of me. ...understands it, still. It is...different. But it does not follow the Rhythm of the World. With each...

He pauses here, and starts writing again. Focused. Very focused. The chalk scrapes across the surface, dust falling onto the ground.

...with each...tightening of the. Wrench the...Ancestors cried out. And faded. Sandy...saved. My...

He pauses here again. He pauses for a long time and stares at the slate. It's a while before he writes a single word: Memory. In careful, bold words, a word that has some weight to it. Not unlike someone elsewhere might say: soul.

Svarshan lowers the tablet then, and nods to Raethon. He raises his hand in greeting, pauses, and then lowers it, his expression still focused and partly tired, distracted. He looks at the argument being waged back and forth and rubs at his jaw, again. And smiles at Raethon.

They...do. This, he writes. And: He will collapse in the streets. Surrounded by...his. Inventions.

Cesran nods to Sandy, "They do. I am not dangerous about it. I don't wish to experiment on it like some artificers do to try to improve it. I wish to know more about it, how it works and how it was made. It's much like an airship. To think perhaps one day we shall travel across the seas in them and explores the depths of the oceans." He nods, "I am well aware of history Tak, I have studied it quite a bit of it. Those that do not learn from the mistakes of history are doomed to repeat them. You don't see anyone building Titan War Golems do you?"

"Maybe not for /you/," says Sandy with a sniff to Svarsham, "Artifice isn't against the world. It's a blessed-by-Reos thing! Feh," she huffs at Svarshan and delivers a kick to his shin. General principle, you know. Svarshan looks to Cesran, and writes one word: Yes. And then he looks at Sandy. And writes: Ow.

Solace peers at the paladin's writing, and his expression flickers with sympathy, then hardens at the last. He crosses his arms over his chest. "Not everyone's path is like yours, Svarshan. And I have /never/ collapsed in the streets or anywhere else, and I have driven myself much harder than this," he snaps. "Just because I am /excited/ about something doesn't mean I'm going to kill myself over it, or start blowing up the gods-be-damned city!" Now, excited half-elf has turned to sulky half-elf. Raethon says, "Then go and /REST/, Solace!" Raethon emphasizes that last word before his name. "Until then, your inventions can wait. I will make sure you get the part you need for your new invention, whatever it is, and deliver it quietly." Thank goodness Raethon doesn't know how to warp dimensional space yet."

Tak shakes his head. "Some works of artiface may be blessed by Reos, but the power exists for those who don't follow that faith. They manage discoveries as well, perhaps at the influence of something else." He points at Solace "This one’s a bit too obsessed; he would likely dissect Tatyanna the other day just to reach some jewel she swallowed to keep out of the hands of saughuin."

Cesran nods, "Well I will not take you to the submersible until you have rested. So you would do well to listen to your friend." He looks to Tak, "Artifice or magic or swords or bows are like anything else Tak, they can be used for good or ill, they are just tools. It takes a willing mind and spirit to wield these tools for either good or ill. Are not we all obsessed with something? Be it more knowledge, the perfect song, the will of a God or Goddess, the prefect fighting technique. We all strive for something. Just some people's obsessions are a bit more intense than others."

Solace sighs at Raethon. "Is there a deep seeded paternal instinct that you've been suppressing that you're just now feeling the need to indulge? Because if so, I must point out that despite the difference in our ages, I am /not/ your child. Or a child at all." He flaps a hand. "I will sleep soon. If only to stop you nagging." Never mind that he has to visibly stifle a yawn at the words. But Tak's contribution makes him turn a cold stare on the bard. "...that is not an amusing jest," the Charnese artificer says. "I am /aware/ of the limits Alexandrian society sets on such things, and will not violate them. Tatyannah is, as far as I know, with the clerics of her god, and they are either helping her, or setting her up with a fabulous new career in party lighting. With Tariens, it is difficult to tell."

Svarshan breathes out slowly and then looks at the group of them. ...eventually, he looks towards the hitching post, where Srassha waits. He takes a step that way before stopping...thinking...and looking at Raetheon, and writes: They do that. ...after that, he pauses. Nods to Sandy, and writes: She...collapsed arse-up in the Fountain. Once.

"I like that you just wrote 'ow'," says Sandy. And then she sees what he writes next and goes to snatch the slate away form him. Quickly. Svarshan gives Sandy a wounded look, and then looks to Raethon as though to say: See?

Raethon says, "It's called worrying about friends, Solace." He then shakes his head before looking to Svarshan and chuckling. "That's an......embar-ass-ing posture to land in, isn't it?""

Tak looks to Solace "And this is why I judge you so, your response here was that it was illegal to do so, not that you had any concern for her person, only that you couldn't research that jewel because of laws. Perhaps you misspoke, but it sounded like you would have cut her open had it been legal, despite any protests on the matter from her." He is briefly distracted by the board writing of Svarshan, but he clearly avoids looking at Sandy, just in case she plans to incinerate someone. Svarshan looks to Tak, and then more thoughtfully to Solace. He still looks relaxed, though. Calm.

Solace's lips twitch at the revelations on the slate. "Really, Lady Sandiel? I wish I could say that I was surprised." The barb is only half-hearted, though, most of his attention turned to Tak and his words. The artificer stares at the bard, his expression weary. "The only one who ever said anything about dissecting /anyone/ was you, Tak. Perhaps I simply don't feel the need to refute accusations that come more from my appearance and background than from any knowledge of my inclinations and character." Which, it should be noted, still isn't exactly a 'no, I would never do that'.

Cesran nods, "You do have to be careful they do tend to frown on it even if you are doing it for beneficial purposes. I took a skull once from an adventure to try to find out who the person might have been to tell their family and had to explain it to the authorities who took it away. I also had to be careful about scrolls that I find. Necromancy is very frowned upon and I agree, I do not want to see magic twisted in such an evil way, but those ways are out there and knowledge of them can help to counter them. Sometimes to fight the darkness one must stand in the darkness."

"Don't make me punch you," says Sandy to Raethon, bluntly. Then to Solace, "You! Shut up! Not a WORD!" Then she glares down at the slate and proceeds to wipe away the embar'ass'ing evidence. "NOT ANOTHER WORD. ANY OF YOU." Firmly. Hands the slate back.

Svarshan stares hard at Cesran a while and then it looks as though Sandy's about to punch him again. Except she hands the slate back. He looks at it a while, then tucks it underneath his cloak.

Tak takes a half step back, he stopped juggling a little while ago and is now holding his apples. He doesn't offer any more comments, then tosses one of the apples at Solace, perhaps a peace offering....unless Solace doesn't see it and then it’s an attack!

Raethon smiles at Sandy. "I apologize, Lady Sandy." he then chuckles a little at the slate being wiped clean. "A little bit of humor sometimes helps the mind forget troubling times of others though."

Cesran knows that stare that Svarshan is giving him as he's gotten it before. He knows his words are inflammatory in certain areas. "If I can counter the spell an evil necromancer is going to cast to stop him from defiling the dead, would not that be better than to have to hack the innocent bodies apart to stop them from hurting my companions. I would rather risk my own soul then to see my companions hurt by something I could have prevented."

Solace was continuing to stare at Tak, barely distracted by Sandy's threats and the chatter of others, so he sees the apple coming and catches it, with a couple of fumbles along the way. He doesn't take a bite off of it, but does pull a clean handkerchief out of a belt pouch and begin to polish it. Wordlessly, he turns away from Tak to smile at Raethon. "Don't apologize. It only encourages her." Catching Cesran's part of the conversation, he nods. "Power is only a tool. The prohibitions against necromancy are, in some cases, a bit overblown in the civilized lands. When it can be used to counter the abuses of the darker-hearted practitioners, it should be. Denying ourselves of a potential weapon only hampers us," says the Charn.

Svarshan looks to Raethon and then nods the direction of Solace, then to Cesran, to Tak. Let me know if they cause any trouble, that seems to say. He gives Cesran, and then Solace, a hard look before heading towards the swift tied to the hitching post.

And then Svarshan is leaving and Sandy calls out, "WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?" She demands, shaking a fist after him. She's going to go right after him, slate in hand.

Tak sighs a bit, "A talent needed to survive in my field is reading the crowd, and while I enjoy the discussion here, I feel that no minds shall be changed this day. I shall simply leave with this adage, Power Corrupts." He hands his other apple to Cesran, and then starts off through the market.

A brief flicker of disappointment crosses Solace's face at the paladin's disappointment, his shoulders dropping for a moment before he turns it into a casual shrug. The apple is tucked away in a belt pouch. "I should probably be about my business, as well," he says. There's a wistful look given to the bewildered merchant, but with a nod to Raethon, he says, "Or, rather, I should be moving on to bed."

Raethon chuckles and nods to Svarshan before waving. he then looks to Solace and stretches his neck out a bit. "mmmf. Speaking of rest, I'd better go and get some myself." He then looks to Solace and chuckles. "It's a good idea, Solace. It's where I'm headed. Well, to rest anyways." he then trots his way back to his room. Oddly, he didn't buy anything tonight....

Cesran watches Svarshan go and Sandy go after him, "Run fast Svarshan!" He takes the apple, "Thank you. Not all power corrupts only those who let power use them." He nods, "I should go back to my looking. I have to find someone who deals in exotic woods."