Gold for Joy

Cockpit 
 * The cramped cockit barely has enough room for the pilot's bench and second officer's station behind, every square of space inch filled with monitors, switches and system telltales. The glassteel canopy provides minimal headroom, the long slender bubble providing an excellent view of the surrounding space. A holographic heads up display provides navigational information while the console signals add faint rainbow reflections.

Rathenhope looks up, sitting on the co-pilots seat and watching the viewscreen. "Hey Scheur," he says, turning to see her.

Ruin moseys in not long after, stretching lazily. "...Anybody volunteering to be pack mule today?" he asks.

Voliast enters slowly, medical bag in hand. He whistles quietly on entry, and says: "Alright, I've got us a meeting with the Striders' representative. It's actually someone who says he's seen you before Scheur, and met you, Ruin. Priest of Volir." His speech is abrupt. His Aura is utterly supressed, showing only a faint green at the moment. He enters right after Ruin, and blinks as he recalls his statement: "Pack mule?"

Volouscheur blinks at Iast, ~Really?~ Another blink, this one to Ruin, ~...what's a pack mule?~

Rathenhope nods to the new entries before blinking at Ruin as well. "Well, I'm on watch, can't really do much carrying," he grins.

Ruin nods. "And Leodh's your backup for now," he agrees. "Wake him up if there's any trouble." He smiles brightly at Iast. "Your timing is perfect, as I was going to go looking for them. Again. And 'pack mule' is a reference to someone who does the bulk of the carrying of weighty objects, although in this case it's more bulk than weight. I got a few crates of commercial-grade fireworks, as well as a few simpler ones, and sparklers and whatnot. Help carrying some would be quite nice, though I don't think bringing everything is necessary." He appears to remember something, and starts patting down his pockets.

Voliast laughs, then wraps an arm over Scheur's shoulders, leaning down to peck her cheek. ~Yes, really. They have a place in Radiance which contains their technological devices. It's where we're headed. Now, you lot need to do anything before we go?" He looks to Rath, and says: "Leodh and yourself should be aware, there is at least one Interrogator outstanding who was not at his residence when I made a "house call", and at least five more I haven't been able to track down, who friends have placed as being pale of skin or not glowing."

Volouscheur slips an arm around Iast's waist, kissing his neck when he pecks her cheek. ~Mmm. What's the weather out there like? Do I need to put something warmer on?~

Rathenhope sighs. "Great... What's the likelihood of me being able to shoot them with the ships guns should they turn up?"`

"I'll suggest putting a full layer on for safety's sake, Scheur," says Ruin. "Fireworks are full of sparks - incindiery material. It's easy to get burned if you've got a lot of skin exposed." He purses his lips at Rathenhope. "The psi grenades are in the stateroom," he says. "If all else fails, slam one to the ground - I think it'd hit them a lot harder than it would you. If you're still standing afterward, kill them before they wake up."

Voliast laughs and says: "Pretty damn good. But it'd cause more of an incident than tossing a psi grenade and giving them a headache. Just do the latter, so we don't cause an incident. But keep the door locked. If anyone tries to force their way inside, toss a grenade and hit them with a stunner please. It could be some lost kid looking for a hand in a closed shipyard." He winks blithely at Rath, and then adds: ~It's warm enough, Scheur. Cold and drafty in the caves as always, but I thought you liked a breeze about your nethers.~ Paling slightly at Ruin's instructions, but nodding, Voliast says: "We're more frail than humans. Physically, we go down easily. A good blow to the head, especially, can drop them. We can react by thinking, but sometimes we don't think faster than other races can act. Surprise is your friend." The doctor gestures to the door, and begins slowly making his way out.

Volouscheur sticks her tongue out at Iast briefly, ~A breeze, yes. I don't want them freezing off, though.~ She heads after him, though, strands of apricot winding around her.

Rathenhope nods slightly, tilting his head to one side. "If anyone comes on the ship, stun em if I can, if I can't, use a grenade and then stun them." He raises an eyebrow at Ruin. "Unless your orders are specifically to kill them."

Ruin blinks. "...Valid point. Very valid," he says. "...Rath...if you can stun them and keep them out, better to do that until Iast can look at them. But if it comes down to keeping them stunned or keeping yourself and Leodh and this ship safe, we'll take the heat for killing. Just as we discussed on TK, Scheur - sometimes there's no wiggle room for mercy."

Voliast doesn't turn back, but does call: ~On the whole, Rath. I'd prefer that you two live through the night, and everyone else does too. But if worse comes to worse, telepsychics would find it hard to overcome a ship's heat shields. And we're not physically skilled. Just keep the door locked.~ He's already out and heading for the ship's exit. Voliast punches in a keypad code and exits.

Volouscheur pads out of the room after Iast, offering a brief feeling of agreement to Ruin, ~I know.~ A swirl of pale blue darkens her aura for a moment before it melts into the pale green of the rest. Volouscheur punches in a keypad code and exits.

Rathenhope flicks his sidearm to charge and then nods to them all. "Okey, we've got the fort. Have a good time."

"...The Controller made a point, last time, of dominating and attacking through innocent civilians," says Ruin quietly. "Just to make everyone look worse. He'll probably do it again. Be as merciful as the situation allows. And if it allows for none - don't hesitate to show none. Dominated or not, civilian or not, their attacks can still kill." And with that, he turns and leaves.

Vollista Outpost Landing Deck 
 * This massive round pad is suspended over the sheer gray mountainside. Wind whistles around the weathered structure, which shows little evidence of recent, consistent use. A protective railing serves as a meager barrier to the panoramic view of the rocky mountains that the outpost clings to. Far below and sprawling along the base of the peaks, a rich growth of navy blue pine trees covers like a blanket. A small lake is also noticable among the pine forest immediately below the outpost, reflecting the green-tinted sunlight. The sky itself is a tumult of green plasma tentacles, wrapping across the sky like a fantastic spaceborne highway with the flaring emerald star of Volir at the center.


 * A small structure has been built of the rough gray stone of the mountainside. It stands near the stairway which pierces the protective railing and leads down the mountain. Through its thick plastic windows several Vollistans can be seen; they politely check to be sure no visitors to the planet carry psi blockers with small handheld devices they carry.

Voliast is walking slowly onward, assumably to allow the others time to keep up. He is also rooting in his bag as he goes, thus leaving the duty of pack mule, apparently, to "someone else". He picks out a can of soda which he's managed to thus far hide from Scheur, snaps it open, and takes a sip, while walking onward toward the caves.

Volouscheur has swapped her light gauze robe for a heavier, wool-like one. She frowns as she spots the can of soda, strands of ruddy orange winding around her, ~Iast! I thought we agreed that caffine isn't good for you, right now!~ Although, admitedly, it wasn't so much of a 'we decided' as a 'Scheur decided and then hid all of it on him'.

Ruin is being the pack mule himself - a bag that looks like a converted NLM duffle stuffed full of...things. Angular and/or pointy things, to judge by the lines they make in the duffel. "Scheur, have you ever seen a sparkler?" he asks, sidestepping the glass house of the caffeine argument.

Voliast grins, and says in a ringing baritone as he walks on away from the landing pad: "I've treated patients and told individuals what was best for their health, as well as maintaining my own in immaculate shape for almost a century and a half now. I can drink what I like." He says this in a laughing tone, but then turns at the mention of sparkler. "Oh, yes, Ruin. I actually have never had time to SEE fireworks, when you think of it, maybe you should demonstrate one or two so we can decide what to show the Striders for a demonstration?" He sets down his medical bag, adding to Scheur: "If you drink some of it, I won't be tempted to drink it all." He then holds up the can and shakes it slightly, eyes on Ruin's burden for the moment. "Our meeting is very soon, so this had best be as quick as possible."

Volouscheur sticks her tongue out at Iast again, but shakes her head at Ruin. ~I've never seen one, no.~ The can of soda is accepted, Scheur opening it with a bit of difficulty and taking a sip.

Ruin nods, setting his bag down. "Most fireworks are designed to burst in air - on the surface of a planet, at night," he explains, rummaging through it. "However, some are designed to be much lower to the ground - such as roman candles - and sparklers are accessible even to children, properly supervised, and are held in the hand." He pulls out what looks like a wand of incense from a box in the duffel, and then a lighter from one of his jacket pockets. "This is a sparkler." He lights the tip, and it quickly bursts into rich green sparks, falling to the ground. "It's quite safe to hold - just don't let the sparks fall on you, as they're hot." He holds the 'safe' end of the wand as to offer it. "Would either of you like to hold it? Children paint in the air with them."

Voliast smiles and looks over at Scheur, remaining silent at the light show. His own aura does flare into slight gold spangles on a green field. ~I am sure they shall be a big hit with the Striders. They do love new things. Not strictly technological, but they are interested in most sciences. We are not as behind in chemistry as we are in electronics, but still a good deal. We make only traditional compounds. It makes me think of the flarestones, specially rendered gems or rocks, receptive to solar flares that come alive with color during.~

Ruin smiles. "Science as art," he agrees. "The chemistry that goes into making these can be used for many other applications - but fireworks are pure art. I have enough chemistry to show the basics...but they'll have to rediscover how to make the big beauties on their own, if Dement can't or won't help."

Volouscheur sets her can of soda down, taking the sparkler cautiously by the 'safe' end. She studies it curiously, twirling it a little, ~So...they paint with these? Like this?~

One of the Haste's external cameras turns to face the group who are playing with fireworks.

Ruin grins. "Yes," he says. "Trailing colored sparks in the air...nothing like what a Vollistan can do with their aura, but think of the lightshow if many different people moved sparklers of several different colors." He bends down to his bag again. "...How high's the ceiling in the cavern we're going to?"

Voliast smiles faintly and then begins the trek toward the shuttle to Radiance. His long strides carry the doctor onward, calling back: "I'm sure it will impress them enough, now, come along. We do not wish to be too late." And then, he's off into the shuttle. Voliast boards the sleek new shuttle and begins the long journey to the seaside.

Ruin shrugs, shoulders his duffel again, and gives the Haste a wave before following after Voliast.

Silicon Caverns
 * At great expense, the walls of this long, winding set of catacomb offshoots, have been lined with data nodes. Though open to public use, they are not much frequented. Their screens flash in the dull written alphabet of Volspak, with some markings and symbols adapted from Terran Standard to represent words the residents did not have symbols for previously.


 * In short, this is home to the pro-technology Vollistan group known as the Striders of Volir. It is cramped within the room at the end of the long tunnels leading in. Excepting many storerooms, larders, workplaces, and bunk rooms, the chamber which is the actual focus of this part of the caves, is very cramped. This is not due to a lack of space, on the contrary, there is plenty of room in this gymnasium-sized place. Rather, it is due to the bulk of generators, sensors, computing equipment, and other devices which are in this room, in varying states of either operation, construction, or just plain disarray. It is a noisy space filled with working hands, but there is a happy air about it, and numerous tapestries which adorn the walls (on the basis they don't take up more than an inch's thickness), and pieces of artwork among the electronics on the tables. The space is never truly empty, containing a few of the Striders of Volir at any given time. Paradoxically, the slogan above the door in Volspak, and, newly, Terran Standard, reads:


 * "One cannot meet defeat, when the condition for victory is the thought that surrounds attempted change itself. Progress is not always good, but good can be achieved through progress."

The chamber is currently bustling, as always. Near the entrance, in a comfortable chair, is Volseneth, the ill-fated survivor of the massacre which occurred not TOO long ago in this very city of Radiance. He's awaiting the arrival of the guests of the striders, of which he has become something of a leader, despite the group having the true democracy iof the oppressed subculture. On one side of the room, a large bank of computer servers is being toyed with. Voliast enters the room slowly, glowing faintly green, and, spotting the Priest of Volir sitting on his chair, gives a faint wave, announcing: ~We are here to meet with you?~ He turns and beckons Scheur and Ruin forward from behind him, waiting to see their reaction to this place. Voliast's aura is faintly indigo.

Volouscheur follows Iast and Ruin into the cave, looking around quietly. She still carries the sparkler - long since quenched, now - and the can of soda has been emptied and returned to Iast for him to do...whatever it is he's doing with the empty cans.

Scheur seems...perhaps surprisingly (or not)...familiar with the cave. She looks around quietly, offering a feeling of greeting to Volseneth and a few others whom she recognizes and who aren't busy with something right now.

Ruin simply stares, radiating an interesting combination of surprise, delight, curiosity, and a thoughtful sadness, apparently absorbed in identifying the things he can see.

Volseneth rises and smiles, walking over to give handshakes and greetings all around. He pauses for a brief inclination of his head to Voliast at the end, making a perfunctory ritual sign of respect for elders. The young priest then turns, and gestures to the room at large, walking away from the three with his hands folded behind his back, and saying: "Pray, what brings you here? You said you wished to meet with us to discuss something important..." No one else in the room seems to be noticing the newcomers. This is the kind of come-and-go place where anyone is welcome. Ruin DOES get a few glances from figures walking out the doors, who turn once they pass him. The word "cute" can be heard, but it's being said about all of them... maybe. Voliast's aura, upon shaking hands with Volseneth, actually shifts to brief black before composing itself back to green. His usual composure is briefly lost before the former Intermezzo says, firmly: "Yes. We planned to show you some technology, and wanted to make a presentation to the Intermezzo on the night of my audience to discuss aiding him with the new reform programs, as a kind of gift, you see..." Voliast's eyes rove back to Ruin and Volouscheur, the doctor not saying anything. His private telepathic voice does, though, in the mental equivalent of a harsh whisper: ~For whatever reason. I can't read him much. What I do see is calculating. He's not one of them, but he's NOT just some cleric...~ And then, he goes back to looking over at the turned back of the Strider's rep.

Volouscheur is quiet for now, just listening and watching. The half-used sparkler in her hands is toyed with absently, however, but her aura is pale green and apricot.

Ruin emotionally 'cools' as he looks around, mentally identifying. "...High-end stuff," he says. "Do you know what makes your rocks glow?"

The priest turns, smiling, and quirks an eyebrow. "Hmm? Oh, the ones that glow in flares? Chemical treatment. The priests have a big ritual, but that's all it is. Yes, we bought much of this via barter with merchants. Our sold artwork does give the planet an income of sorts." Pausing, he walks to a desk, and clears a bunch of things off, gesturing to the many chairs, saying: "Take a seat, then." He takes one on one side himself, watching them all, but remaining silent for now. Voliast himself remains standing and leans against a wall, but is smiling faintly, Aura a neutral green. He closes his eyes, and says: "Ruin, maybe we should show him the kind of thing we mean to use? Maybe they'll know how to simulate 'em." Volseneth looks at the bag Ruin is carrying, curiosity in his voice as he says: "Oh, is this related to the glowing stones?"

Ruin laughs quietly, though there's no emotion of amusement behind it. "Chemical treatment," he muses. "So the stones were made, once. That's interesting." He indicates the half-used sparkler in Scheur's hand. "Do you know of fireworks, then?"

Volouscheur looks over at Ruin and then offers the sparkler back to him, still quiet for now.

The priest, Volseneth, representative of the Striders of Volir, is sitting in a chair at a large table. Voliast is nearby, leaning against a wall and glowing faintly green, just like the priest. Scheur and Ruin are near to there, Ruin holding a large and bulky bag of fireworks. The priest responds to him: "Oh, well, they're still made. Some are naturally that way, but the prettiest colors are treated. I know something of fireworks, or, would assume I've heard of them, but never seen them. We've been more focused on communication technology than anything else." He indicates the several computer mainframes in one part of the room with one hand. The vollistan doctor looks up, and says: "Well, we plan a big display. Ruin has some to offer you, in case you ever wanted to replicate them, too." The telepathic voice of the Haste's resident doctor adds, privately, to Scheur and Ruin: ~He wants them, just barter. He's not one of them, he just has good mental shields, but I still can't read him. And that's worrying. He's a little too young to be that good, I feel...~ The telepathic voice carries indefinable worry with it.

"...Science, properly applied, answers a need," says Ruin quietly. "The basis of engineering is problem solving. What problem are you solving with communications equipment, here? Vollistans communicate much more efficiently than a mechanical system could replicate."

Volouscheur quietly offers a feeling of comfort to Iast. But she adds, on the same private channel, ~I don't know much about him; he became a priest while I was still young,~ an image of a Scheur who 'seems' arond four or five, in Human terms, ~And he was based around Radiance, even then. I never saw much of him.~ Other than that, she's still quiet.

Voliast answers Ruin's question for the priest of Volir: "Vollistans don't communicate offworld. Interplanetary commerce, travel arrangements, recruiting people for infrastructure projects..." The doctor has set down his medical bag, and is still studying the member of Volir's clergy closely. Volseneth cuts across him: "...calling for help. Like we wish we could have done while the New Lunans were still on-world a while ago. Lots of reasons." His Aura flares briefly red, but the priest goes on: "It allows us to sell our artwork and our expertise, and have connections with other worlds. It removes some of our isolation. Granted, when the flares hit, it stops..." He pauses and shrugs, saying: "What problem do YOU seek to solve by being here?" and tents his fingers on the desk in front of him. He then slaps his forehead, and says: "Oh, where is my head? Anything to eat or drink?" His Terran Standard is impeccable. Volouscheur is regarded briefly by both Iast, and the priest, Voliast nods to her, and the priest himself walks to a few mini-fridges lined along the wall in this room where space is at a premium, and roots, while awaiting requests.

Ruin smiles slightly. "I brought Vollistans Home," he says, managing to pronounce the capital. "And, as I attended their Joining, I want to see that they're comfortable. I just got interested myself, in how things are done here - the glowing stones have a lot of uses, just on their own, if they were exportable. I'm told they never go out?" He tilts his head. "Why don't you make beautiful things with your science?"

Volouscheur glances at Iast quietly and says, ~If you have any skyhin - or butter-puffs - it'd certainly be appreciated.~ She looks over at Ruin, absently fiddling with one of the buttons on her robe.

The priest pulls out a small tray of mushroom-like things with cotton candy like fluff on the edges, and brings them over. They're chilled, and have condensation on them. Voliast steps forward, takes one, and pops it in his mouth with a muffled: "Tanks. Aven't eaten all dayf.", before swallowing. The Priest then sits down, takes one himself, and addressed Ruin: "Because the Council wanted a way to communicate, and they asked us to work on this first. Also, we're not artists, most of us. Dreamers, yes, but not artists." He pauses and looks at them, saying: "So... this meeting is ticking on a little, what kind of show were you planning? What are your resources? We would be glad to help."

"A fireworks display," says Ruin, setting down his bag. "I have more than this, if you find them suitable. Science as art...I'm not really artistic myself, but I appreciate these. I thought you might also. If the festivities are aboveground you can put on a bigger show, but..." he snags the half-used sparkler back to light it - holding it carefully so its sparks don't ignite anything. "Do you find colored fire...festive?"

Volouscheur takes one of the butter-puffs as well, popping it into her mouth and giving Iast a quirked eyebrow. Her attention quickly returns to Ruin and Volseneth, however.

The priest watches the sparkler, and an open smile creeps into his aura, along with a flush of gold. "Very pretty!" he announces quietly. Rising to walk over and look at the other fireworks, the man's eyes alight with some kind of inner joy. "Yes, I've got just the place for them that you can see them from the council hall, and we have some small remote firestarters, for ceremonies, we figured... ooh." His excitement is catching, and a few other people happen over, the Priest conversing with them in Volspak. Voliast walks over, watching the sparkler himself, and says to Scheur: "There, they'll do the rest for us. YOU, meanwhile, will come with me to a tavern to get something to eat, after we let them see the merchandise, and get details on their plans of the display." He pauses, and calls to Volseneth by name, following it with, as the cleric looks up: "We'll leave the display to you. Just make it eye catching and don't blow anything unnecessary up." A smile answers, along with a nod, and one of the small children who've been lurking around, happens over, oohing at the sparkler in Ruin's hand.

Ruin has several more sparklers, in several more colors - red, blue, purple and white as well as green. "The making of fireworks is complex chemistry," he says. "I've asked for a chemist, but I don't know if he'll make it here anytime soon. So I got these. I can give you some idea where to begin, but that's as far as my own chemistry skills go." He offers a gold sparkler to the priest. "...There's more to what you want to do than communications. I'd like to see Vollistans curious about their world. Maybe...show them science can be beautiful?"

Volouscheur nods quietly to Iast, nuzzling at his neck and slipping an arm around his waist. She hugs him lightly, ~Tavern certainly sounds like a good idea.~

Volseneth nods in response to Ruin's statement, pondering. "We have an ethernet connection. We are capable... of viewing material. If you helped us, could we find the information through computers?" He gestures to a nearby laptop. "We are learning, and good at adapting old ways, but Vollistans do not often move forward." He seems more respectful than the disdainful figure with which they may have first been met. Voliast himself grins and leans back, saying privately to Scheur and Ruin: ~Nothing sinister, he's just got good shields. He's happy at the idea of enticing the council and the spectators at the audience with said tools. Good. We will go to a tavern if you'd like to join us, Ruin? We will escort you home if not." Meanwhile, the techs are running small scanning devices over the fireworks, speaking purely at the speed of mental communication now. The doctor takes this time to quietly polish off the rest of the plate of mushrooms.

Volouscheur snags a couple for herself, but lets Iast eat most of them. She hugs him again, asking Iast, ~If Volissenait shows up, will you talk with him? It kind of seems like you've been avoiding him since he appeared...~

"...I'm a programmer, and I can use computers, but network protocols are...not really my field," Ruin admits quietly. "And...fireworks are an ancient art. Humans had fireworks before they had guns, and in a sense they're a pure thing. They are what they are...dangerous, but not meant to harm...brilliant. The sparklers you can hold, but most of these will launch colored explosions into the air at differing heights. Please - experiment with them on the surface, ideally at night when you can see them shine best." He takes packets from his pockets, laying them out. "This is where to begin. White, blue, green - that's all I had on me, but toss the powders on a flame and you'll see the fire change." He steps back, moving to follow Iast and Scheur. "I have more, if you need them for a good show or to experiment with." He turns to Iast. "I'll...go with you."

Voliast heads toward the door, waving back at the room which is now excitedly whirling in its analysis of the fireworks. They call thanks after the departing trio, Volseneth calling to Ruin in particular: "Thank you for saving me, that day." More loudly, he adds to Voliast:" They will be prepared in time for your audience, just make sure you know what you're doing. The old legends are a gamble!" Voliast pauses in the door, but walks out, murmuring to Scheur, as he throws an arm around her in return: "He is VERY good. And no, I should not talk to Volissenait, not yet. I might end up hurting him. My mind reacts instinctively, and he may try to intrude. You know what I could do by accident, it is why I wear the blocker." And then, he's gone out, Scheur at his side.

Centre Plaza 
 * The cavern is formed from a large, airy, asymmetrical flaw in the surrounding pink-streaked granite rock. Low at the north end, the ceiling of rock lifts away until it arches down into the south wall of the cavern nearly a hundred feet above the abstract spirals of floor mosaics.


 * The south wall itself is pockmarked with graceful balconies and windows as it falls back to the plaza floor, most glassless and hung instead with fluttering curtains or intricate tapestries. The flickering lights of Vollistans within shine through many of these, and the occasional conversation takes place in either Volspak or tortured Terran Standard between the occupant of a balcony and someone below.


 * The plaza floor tends to be rather full at all hours of the day and night as Vollistans and the occasional alien flow over the mosaics and around the occasional fountain set into the floor. Conversational groupings form, linger, and break up again as the individuals that create them disappear into one of the many exits from this central area. A very low murmur of conversation fills the area, muted into incoherency just as the blended glow of many bright bodies mingles into a white shimmer which lights the place. The telepathically sensitive will note a similar hum on the mental level.

Ruin looks thoughtful, coming out. "...Barter?" he asks. "All we needed was their interest, I thought. I'm sorry...I couldn't think of anything to barter for."

Volouscheur follows Iast out of the Silicon Caverns, hugging him lightly, ~He needs healing, probably. His mind is...odd, at best. Like there's two of him in there - one kind, the other...not.~

Shaking his head, Voliast says: ~If it had been another man, barter might have been necessary. He loves his discipline, that one. We'll be fine. Besides, he... saw right through to my plan. He's backing an outside chance. Let's go. He creeps me out, and that's practically a professional opinion almost as much as my dissertations on arrogance." He strides off westward, keeping Scheur abreast, and saying: ~I could not mend that. Not even I. Not without taking his problems into myself, or risking the same. He can heal them himself. Anything I did would be a stop-gap measure. And he has earned none of my pity.~ Voliast enters the Western Passageway.

Trade Bazaar 
 * Here is all bustle and movement, bright colours and the shimmer of varicoloured auras. The bazaar takes place in a bowl-like cavern, so that one standing at the edge can look over the buyers and the sellers at their trade. There are many aliens here, more than in the rest of the caverns, variously dressed as no-nonsense merchants or pleasure-seekers, and the babble of several languages breaks through the slurred vowels of Volspak often.


 * If one shoulders into the crowd one can find any works of art imaginable, from practical objects finely made to fanciful sculptures spun from the lightest of materials and spanning a dozen feet to tiny phials of expensive perfume. The sizzle and savory scent of small food titbits mingles with clothing dye and sawdust and sweat.

Volouscheur sighs at Iast's words but doesn't say anything. Instead, she just follows him to the bar, aura a darker green now.

"...Another man?" asks Ruin, puzzled.

Nodding to Ruin, Voliast says: "Yes. If a man other than one of the Striders of Volir had been there... they might have wanted paying for their trouble. They will set it up out of love of what they intend to do, out of love of something that isn't likely to be popular among wider Vollistan society. Those young individuals work their hindquarters off to understand mysteries other Vollistans, quite wisely in some cases, want no truck with." He then steps into the bar with the old mantra: "Boy, I need a drink.", disengaging from Scheur as he goes.