Completed Death and Business [Clyde]

[Shimoje]

75th of Spring 516 A.V.

8th bell

Shimoje awoke in a groggy state and did not feel like getting out of bed. After a while his sore muscles managed to pull him out of bed like a puppeteer would drag his doll across the floor. His room was mostly empty. All of the adventures to find information on his father had led him exhausted. He went through a lot of turmoil from all of it, but despite the turmoil he secretly liked it. The thrill and dangers of living on the wild side showed him excitement that he had never felt before. Today was his day though. It was his day to relax and just lounge around in the apartment.

Picking up his pack he removed a ration and started to eat it. He was used to the rations by now, and it helped save himself from going out and seeing people. He felt like every time he went out he put on a fake face to people, and never exactly spoke his mind directly to people. He didn’t really have the heart to let people down though. His conflicted attitude and thoughts on the way he socialized with others was really starting to bother him. Perhaps, this was another reason why he liked doing all of those things. It kept his mind off of things. Not an easy task; So far this season just after arriving to Syliras he had hunted down a group of drunken bandits, chased after a kriital, investigated a pranking thief, and other various things that led him into danger.

After eating Shimoje figured he would try his hand at carving once again. He usually kept wood around to practice his designs and to carve random things into them. Placing a block of wood on the table he went to get out his woodcarver’s toolkit, but just as he sat the wood onto the table he heard another wooden knock from the far end of his apartment. Someone was at his door? The last time someone had knocked on his door he got the really bad news that his father was dead. Perhaps this time it would be one of the new friends he made in Syliras from doing all those tasks. He would like to believe he made a name for himself, but that would be a very distinct lie. It was almost as if the knights and squires didn’t care about anything else besides beating each other up and pushing their own bodies to the limits by sparring. Shimoje wasn’t for that life, he would rather methodically train his body without injury, especially after the bruise on his ribs which despite being healed still caused the occasional sharp pain.

Shimoje got up frustratingly and answered the door, opening it up slightly to see if anyone was there. He saw no one and looked down to see if it was one of those pint sized pycons, but instead a single letter laid before his door. It was sealed and bore no distinct marks on the outside that would tell him who it was from. He picked up the letter and went inside closing the door and sat down. The letter read


“Dearest Shimoje,

I know I was not always there for you, and I should have been more present in your life. Now that you are out on your own I am worried for your survival. By the time you read this I most likely would be dead. There are some things that should not be explained, but I will trust this information with you. During my studies around Mizahar I came across a variety of information on the pre-valterrian era. During this age magic was profound and technological development was at a peak that mankind has not seen since. In my goals to create new life I came across a way to create life like animations, but they would often malfunction. However, I came across some way to inject souls into them, but it was ultimately it was that magic that led to my death. I failed both Izentor and you.

I am sorry son,
I hope you could forgive me, and I hope that you can succeed where I could not.”

Shimoje almost collapsed with anger, fear, and sadness. His mind could not take it. All this time for nothing. The long journey to Syliras was nothing but a joke. Why couldn’t he have just stayed in Zeltiva. In his anger he threw the wood on the table across the room. It slammed into the wall and hit the floor. He rushed over to his bed and plopped his body onto it and let out a few screams before ultimately breaking down and crying. He still had no idea how his father died, except that he died from trying to inject his soul into something and then animating it. What did all of this mean? Was his father killed by someone who figured out what he was doing, or was is actually the magic that killed him?

Shimoje had to find out. His flushed red face extended to his bald head and his cheeks seemed to sulk into his face from the flurry of emotions flowing through him, and then suddenly he went numb. It was as if everything around him didn’t matter anymore. He was conflicted and all of those emotions just seemed to turn him into a zombie. He picked up the letter that was left on the table and headed out the door. He walked slowly with his held up high and blank eyes. He didn’t say hi to anyone that he passed on the streets what so ever. The only place that he knew where to turn to was a store which practiced in the arts of the strange and the unusual.

He headed there without hesitation, without a second thought. He didn’t even know why or why he should after finding out the information he did. It was as if it was useless. He headed to the store which he had never dared to enter before. The Undeniable Interests. Shimoje hated clutter and the mess of the shop absolutely disgusts him, perhaps that is why he never ventured into it before. Once he arrived it was as if none of that even bothered him. He was still numb from the sheer amount of emotions that flowed through him. Inside the shop a series of cobwebs and dust covered everything.

“Welcome.” Came from a croaky old deep voice. The man seemed to throw his voice deeply and with a sense of knowledge. His older stature towered of Shimoje’s and all Shimoje could do is hand the letter to him. He stood there for a while reading it very slowly and as if it mildly piqued his interest he said just a few more words. “Seek a mage. I think a lab is in Winthrope Alley. Not sure though. ”

Shimoje grabbed the letter back from the old man with not even a thank you and left the store. He didn’t speak a single word. He walked for what seemed like a century looking for the alley, and finally he arrived to an uninviting door. Surely this rather daunting looking area would be his lab. With a few loud knocks Shimoje’s green eyes pierced through the doors and he would not leave until his beckoning was answered.

[Clyde Sullins]

75 Spring 516

Clyde was interrupted by knocking as he worked on some Glyph work.

While his glyphing was top notch, normal wear and tear was a norm for the more active warding he used for Magecrafting. He always built in multiple layers of redundancy, so even if one section failed(an unlikelihood except in the case of it having to block powerful magic) another was there to take up the slack.

He had long since began making his works in such a segmented fashion, as it made for easier maintenance and less risk than one giant complex ward. It did however take longer up front, but as he did his work with an eye for the long term that was of less importance.

At the moment he had taken out a pot of inscribing paint, and was carefully painting on some new glyphs to replace ones that had faded, decayed, or in some cases been used up entirely and vanished.

These were mostly glyphs on the exterior ring of the warding about the pedestal, and to a lesser extent the innermost ones closest to the pedestal which had a larger number of focus than any other part of the warding.

Along with maintenance he also had a constant job of building and expanding his wards. When he had first painted the initial set up seasons ago it had been perhaps three or four feet in each direction from the pedestal. Now it had been expanded upon slowly, till now it probably reached much closer to five or six feet in each direction with the pedestal as the seed at its core.

Clyde was just touching up a barrier glyph, a long waving pattern with a few odd letters added in as a sort of fillegree coming off it, making the last stroke of a "f", when he heard the knocking.

He let out a sigh as he turned to the noise, wondering who was coming today. He didn't have any expected visitors, which meant it was either an uninvited guest, the knighthood, a nuisance, or some other fourth or fifth thing that wasn't occurring to him at the moment.

Setting down the paint and brush Clyde picked up Cha from where she had lain perched against his foot, and headed for the door with staff in hand.

After waiting for a moment Clyde unlocked the door, and then opened it a few inches. Not far enough for much to be seen inside of the lab, certainly not any of his work or glyphing or other things. He didn't want random people seeing his work, and ogling over things they had no business with.

With an air of annoyance and exasperation at being interrupted, Clyde looked out at the person who had knocked on his door, and said simply “What?”

[Shimoje]

S H I M O J I E Timestamp: 75th of Spring 8th Bell Location:Winthrope Valley of Syliras The emotions in Shimoje left him careless. Not in the sense of actions, but in the literal meaning of just not caring about much of anything. As he was knocking he went through the motions sporadically, there was no methodical thought to how he placed them or to how hard he knocked. Finally, the door was answered and Shimoje gently stepped backwards anticipating the door to open more. It clearly didn’t, and a rather abrupt response came in its place of a proper greeting. The guy seemed annoyed but Shimoje didn’t care to notice. All he knew is that this was some sort of lab with someone hopefully able to answer some of his questions. A well placed thought was out of the question. The only thing that Shimoje could ponder about was “How and why would one die by putting souls into something?” which he asked out loud and very bluntly. He stood there almost motionless, and his hand rested on his woodcarver’s kit. If anyone was to try and figure out exactly what was going through him at this point they would probably see 17 years of anguish and frustration in one moment. Shimoje really was going through a mental breakdown, his entire core was changing. Everything he thought and felt had just been stirred up into a metaphorical pot, boiled, and then thrown into a bucket of ice. Shimoje stood there for a good second and said nothing. Just looked blankly at the peeping head that emerged from the door. His urges to confront this man far exceeded anything he had felt before, and then came the anger. He was mad for some reason, he was frustrated with the way that Clyde answered the door and just said “What?” He didn’t act on anything but all of a sudden he gritted his teeth and felt like pulling him out from the door to properly talk to him. He didn’t want to talk to a half seen face when he would be trying to share something which at this time is very delicate to him. He had half the nerve to just walk off, but then came the idea. Behind his anger, and behind all the frustration a determination was made. Whatever quests would lie ahead he would do whatever was required to better himself. To be the man that his father couldn’t. That is right, he was mad that such an intelligent man couldn’t even prevent a death that he saw coming. Why write the letter ahead of time? And why send a messenger to tell of the death rather than the proper city caretakers which would normally give news of a death? Suddenly a flashback occurred of when he spoke with Ferrin and Ser Xervos (his knight) come to think of it, it is rather strange that a messenger would give news of a death that happened near Syliras to someone in Zeltiva. Whatever this whole thing was. These flashbacks, the feelings, and the numbness all the same was like a hurricane of several things cascading down at once. It all happened in a series of ticks. If anything this man could not have been the person he was even looking for, but he had to persist and try. “I don’t care what lies beyond or why you hide. I don’t care about anything right now besides the answer to my question. I was told a mage might be able to help. I don’t care even if you are the wrong person to ask – clearly you don’t want me to see something. I have something that I don’t want others to see as well.” Shimoje himself wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or lying about that statement himself. He was just speaking out of his arse at this time. He was like a child with a wild imagination going vividly in every direction between the grays of good and evil intentions. A part of him deep down had made sense to him, but his thoughts were corrupted by a sensory overload. He just stood there and looked blankly at the man partially peeking out of his door. My Words My Thoughts Others Words

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde had been prepared for quite a few things upon opening his door. Mostly he was expecting to be annoyed.

He wasn't however expecting someone to blurt out a puzzling question, one which Clyde had to think threw a few times to understand.

Putting souls into something, at least artificial ones, was sort of how Animation worked. Or more so one created the false soul and built it into a golem.

Dying by putting a soul into something... That was a whole other thing. Something few would know about. Clyde himself only knew because he'd trained on Sahova, and had lived amongst the nuits.

And more importantly he'd seen a Daek-nuit ritual being performed. It had failed, but he'd seen how it worked more or less, and seen how nuit were made. A person was killed, and their escaping soul was placed into the fresh dead body. Except where a golem made by animation was a false soul, it was using a true living soul from a person and putting it into a golem body.

Clyde knew that dying by putting ones soul into something was therefore more or less how a nuit was made.

He knew that, but he had no reason to tell this man that, let alone freely. Magical knowledge wasn't something to just toss about, and certainly not something one gave away to random questioners at ones door.

However while Clyde had no intention of freely giving the information away, he was curious of the question. The specific question in and of itself had to have come from somewhere, which meant some level of knowledge in something, or having the question posed to the person and in turn asking Clyde, either one was a likely reason for the question.

Clyde had been about to explain this to the person, why he wouldn't just be giving away knowledge freely, when he carried on with more statements and questions.

Assumptions. Assumptions about why Clyde hid the contents of his room, and didn't invite the person in.

Clyde tightened his grip on Cha, glaring at the youth in turn. Then suddenly he slipped out through the doorway without properly opening the door, opening it enough to slide out and then slamming it shut hard behind him.

“I hide because it is none of your petching business what lies behind this door! This is my home, and you have no right to go peering about at my things without an invitation. I have nothing to hide, but that doesn't give you the right to see it.”

“My business is my business, and now you want me to come into your business, this question of yours, and freely tell you of mine. That isn't how things work. No free lunches, no open windows into back rooms.”

As he spoke Clyde occasionally punctuated a sentence by waving Cha about, the length of blue wood clearly visible now that he'd come out of his room.

“I might know the answer to your question, or I might not, but that doesn't mean I'll tell you either way freely. I don't see how anything I know is your business, or any reason why I should elucidate the subject. As far as I can see your some nosy busybody, feeling like the answer is some kind of entitlement to you. What I know is mine, and only another's if I so choose.”

“So tell me, why should I tell you anything, busybody?”

[Shimoje]

Try and try again

Shimoje was surprised, and a bit perplexed at the man before him flexing his superiority before him like he was nothing. Shimoje may be nothing to him, but that was far from the thoughts of Shimoje. He acted out in anger and perhaps for the first time showed an ounce of rudeness that he has never done before. He was acting out of emotion, and just as fast as he had the emotion it had flailed through him once again at the man asserting his dominance.

Shimoje reacted gracefully by being snapped back into reality at these rather intellectual explanations of the man’s property and owning. He was right, it was his business and his alone, but it had already gone too far for this encounter to turn back and for Shimoje to act kind once again, but he figured he give it a try by faking a smile and saying “Allow me to properly introduce myself, Sir. I am Shimoje, and I have been going through a lot. I received a letter from my father who had been studying various things. He wrote this to me before his death” He held out the letter, but didn’t care to try to hand it to the man. If he wanted to see it he would clearly ask to see it.

“Forgive me by the way.” Shimoje cracked out a smile which was fairly hard to perform “Surely you must understand what death does to a person.” He was trying to reason with the man. He had no idea who he was dealing with, but the wooden staff that the man flailed around surely aroused his suspicions that he might be the one he was looking for. A glimmer struck through Shimoje’s green eyes and the intensive thoughts started to flow once again. Shimoje has been through a lot since his arrival to Syliras.

With honest and clear thoughts words started to flow through Shimoje as if they were coming from his heart. “I don’t know if you would help me, or why you would bother to with a stranger, but something tells me I have gained some interest otherwise you wouldn’t be waving that staff in my face, but rather would’ve slammed the door in my face.” He continued on with a long wind and a fast tongue, but still enunciated every word with the occasional pause “Look, I am at a standstill in my life and don’t have much to go on. You are my nail to the creak in my back as I hold this burden.”

Shimoje’s words were stressed out of him like he was pleading, but deep down he was trying anything and everything to arouse the man. Would it work? Doubtful seeing as how he just angered him a bit. All manners of civility rested on his shoulders and Shimoje began to perspire. He wiped the sweat from the top of his bald head and looked the guy over once again “That is a beautiful work of craftsmanship. I delve in crafts myself. I enjoy making gadgets and carving wood among a bunch of other trades.” He continued on as to sell himself to the man, but hope was almost lost. He didn’t know if his words held any sort of ground on the man.

Finally, his thoughts came together for a more manipulative approach. Shimoje knew he didn’t have anything to offer, but perhaps he could trick the mage. He knew it would be a dangerous path to walk, but Shimoje was always full of thoughts far beyond imagination would carry in his own sleep. He remembered back to his father’s letter and about creating new life from souls. “Surely you grow tired of people knocking at your door and bothering your lab. I am sure the order has their own suspicions about you as well. This could go one of two ways. You forget about me or you help me and see where this takes you as well.” Shimoje finally stopped speaking but his thoughts continued on with a plot that should surely work. He laced the facts of being a craftman, about his father possibly being involved with magic, and in the future that Shimoje might walk a similar path. Shimoje didn't know why he did this, it was just leverage against the mage.

Speech Thoughts

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[Clyde Sullins]

If Shimoje was surprised by Clyde's reaction, clearly he hadn't met many wizards.

Mages by their nature tended to be secretive, particularly in Clyde's experience, though the reason for that secrecy tended to vary from place to place.

In places like Syliras and Sunberth, were magic wasn't well liked, being a mage could mean trouble. It wasn't uncommon then for mages to keep the fact hidden. In Clyde's case he was a mage, but was using his magic for the knighthood, which did earn him a measure of respect with some, and more importantly a measure of safety. Even still, it was a good idea to keep ones nature a secret, and even more so to keep hidden what one knew, as not everyone respected who one worked for, and could still cause trouble for an unwary mage. Hatred of magic and magic users wasn't uncommon, and was always something to watch out for.

The other reason for Clyde's caginess was in part due to his time spent on Sahova. There virtually everyone was a mage, but people didn't go about giving info freely. All of the mages there were working against each other, afraid of having a discovery stolen or an experiment repeated. Knowledge was the coin of trade there, and nothing was free. Newly arrived apprentices became little more than slaves for their first few seasons, working under more skilled masters until they finally gained the skills and permission to rise and work on their own.

Of course Clyde had his own manner of secrets and things to hide, none of which involved what went on in his lab. The knights were fully aware of his work, and he worked directly for them doing it.

With his own particular history, tied in with how most mages acted in regards to their magical knowledge, it wasn't so odd for Clyde to be tight lipped and offended at the man's expectation of Clyde giving him the knowledge he requested.

In fact, if he freely gave away magical knowledge to every random person who came by his lab, that likely would get him into trouble and draw unwanted attention either from the knights or others who disliked magic, a feeling all to common in Syliras.

When the man plastered a fake smile onto his face before continuing on, it was clear that he was simply switching tactics now that the prior one had failed. Skilled in interrogation and other skills involved in making deals and ingratiating himself to others, he could see a false tongued person as easily as a cow in the middle of an open field. He did his best not to roll his eyes at the mans attempt at cowing Clyde, and showing his humbler and more reserved side.

Clyde wasn't sure if he should believe the man's words, whether or not his father had sent a letter or if he was simply trying to garner sympathy. That was the other downside to his skills, he could detect when someone was trying something, but he also sometimes saw a possible twisting when none was there. The two were often hard to distinguish, even more so if it was partially true while tied in with an attempt to endear one to a subject.

Clyde was considering questioning the man further, perhaps seeing what he was willing to offer at the least, when the man then had the audacity to attempt to threaten and possibly blackmail Clyde. Him, trying to strong-arm Clyde! Clyde did have secrets, ones that he wouldn't want known, but then it was clear from the mans words that he was fishing simply and didn't know anything about Clyde or his secrets.

He was simply making assumptions based on what he'd seen, and attempting to use that as a means of putting fear into Clyde. Clyde was undoubtedly supposed to assume his hinting at things meant he knew more, and was thus supposed to cave and reveal all. Another interrogation technique Clyde knew all too well and had performed on several occasions with much more panache.

That, tied with the fact that the man was jumping from one tactic to another in short order, without pause or giving time for Clyde to respond or for one to take effect, all of this told Clyde the man was either desperate or unskilled in negotiation and interrogation.

Whether or not his words about Clyde and the secrets going on in his lab, of the order having suspicions about him, whether or not they were meant as a means of blackmail, Clyde heard them as such and responded in kind.

Unfortunately for the youth he had overplayed his hand, hinting at things the order wouldn't want to know, when the order did know all to well what he did, as he did it on their behalf. His job and lab only existed with the knights approval, and the things he made invariably went to them.

“Was that a threat? Are you threatening me? How dare you! I have secrets from people like you, because you are nosy busybodies who think they are due things they are not, or who want to know of my business. Who the petch do you think I work for? I work for the knights, they know full well what goes on in my rooms. The only suspicious person here is you, trying to ingratiate yourself to me and threatening me in turn. Now go, before I report YOU to the knights for trying to blackmail a citizen!”

[Shimoje]

Try and Try Again

Shimoje was miffed at the accusations, and there he stood in front of a man who thought he had been blackmailing. Sure Shimoje was trying to gain leverage against the mage, but he had not anything good to blackmail him with. Shimoje just wanted to flex his muscles against the mage in a game of wits and it seemed that testosterone flowed the air as the two went back and forth. Shimoje’s intentions had risen and after the man said Shimoje was threatening him and that he would report him to the knights for blackmail all Shimoje could do was shake his head.

If anything his attempt to extract information had failed, and it was probably due to him not having a clear head. This was all a mistake and Shimoje wish he could have taken it back. The phrase “only human” was never more a prime example of how much he had made a mistake here. Regret flowed through him, but alas he would not stop in trying to deal with the mage. If it came to it he would have one last retort – somehow to let the truth be known. Surely, the man would understand the truth more than dancing around facts trying to hide things from him like a puzzle for him to solve.

A profound burst of sadness and anger at himself flowed through his veins and his face got redhot as tears almost started to form in his eyes. He was just a child compared to Clyde, and all the rousing had ended. Shimoje didn’t want to get reported, but he didn’t want to give up on his quest for knowledge either. Perhaps dealing with a mage would be too difficult for Shimoje at this time, but he knew that if he didn’t try he would never forgive himself.

A series of thoughts crept into his mind as a single tear flowed from his eyes as he wiped it quickly hoping the man would not notice it. All of this emotion finally hit him like a ton a bricks, and he was shaking with nervousness now. “Sir, I was not threatening you or blackmailing you. To be honest I was trying my hand at manipulating you, yes – but my intention was not to affect you in such a way.” He figured that he would be honest this time, and if it leads to the mage losing respect for the bald man, then so be it. Shimoje wanted it to be known that he would do anything to find out what was going on. After his efforts were known and misunderstood he had one last thing to try, and that was the complete and honest truth. He let out a few sentences before turning around his back to the man and heading away from the lab and the man both. “My father was killed from dealing with a sort of magic which involved using souls to create new life, and I would do anything to find out how. If you are unwilling to help I will find my own way. My emotion got the better of me.” He stated solemnly and let out a quick “I am sorry. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have them.” Before taking a few steps away rather slowly and reluctantly.

Shimoje noted that it would not be a good idea to ever try to manipulate a mage ever again, and that they are cleverer than he could have realized. It made him jealous actually, they clearly were far better off than Shimoje himself, and it seemed to be something Shimoje wanted to strive for. He wanted to have a better lifestyle and finally be comfortable if such a thing was at all ever possible. He attempted to lock everything up, lock up all his emotion in one deep exasperated breath. Shimoje was still within hand’s reach of the mage and his back was turned to the mage which would have been a brave move in and to itself. Every frame of mind that had crept up on him during this encounter seemed to be expelled as he exhaled and he once again went numb. He looked back once to see the mage’s reaction, and the thought trickled through his mind like an echo. He wishes he didn’t have any emotions. Why did he say that? He surely didn’t mean it, but at this time he wanted to be rid of them. It would make everything that much more clear.

Speech Thoughts

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[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde knew how to argue. He knew how to dance with nothing but tongue and wit, to hone ones skill against a mighty foe in a stream of words that would leave a lesser man confused and reeling.

He did not consider himself to be in such a bout now. Instead he was the one with all the cards, all of the leverage and positioning, while his foe of sorts was flailing about trying to do anything that came to mind.

His continual shifting of tactics was a clear marker of this, as was his half way attempt at hinting at things he might know but which only showed what little he did know.

Clyde's move was a power play, forcing the boys hand and moving things the way he wanted them to go. In truth he wasn't as angry or offended as he made it appear, but his valid argument implying that he was would he hoped succeed in pusheing things in a new direction.

He was, Clyde considered, but a boy. At least compared to Clyde and his own experiences. They weren't so distant in terms of years, but in Clyde's few years he'd faced many threats that grown adults would have failed when faced with. Clyde had grown fast under harsh conditions, and in a way he was better for it if jaded to a degree.


Clyde had to force himself not to smile when the boy tried to claim he wasn't trying to blackmail him, but only to manipulate him into doing what he desired.

Which as Clyde well knew was basically the same thing.

“Oh, so you weren't trying to blackmail me, just trying to trick me into giving you what you wanted without earning it. If I was so foolish as to fall for such a trick, would I or anyone really be of any worth to you?”

Clyde didn't really care if the youth was being honest, or just trying to seem as such, whether it was genuine or not he could see the conversation coming to a head where it might come to an end.

Cutting through the nonsense, showing who was in control, and then reaching a end point, those were his goals. He didn't doubt that whatever idea had gotten into the boys head it wouldn't leave unless he finished with it now.

“If you came to a tailor, and asked for him to just give aware his wares because you asked, would he do so? No. Is this so different. Knowledge is as much a good as any other commodity. It can be traded for, it can be bought or sold, but it is not given away freely.”

“Now, I might know of what you seek, or I might not. Telling you enough to even answer that question one way or the other would be telling you something, giving you some sampling of my knowledge. And I don't do free samples.”

Clyde did find it slightly interesting though, his notion of getting rid of his emotions. Or perhaps it was ironic, Clyde wasn't sure which. either way it was funny, as golems, of which he was fairly certain the youth was in part asking about, were things without emotion. And now here he spoke of becoming one such emotionless mechanism.

“As for getting rid of your emotions... Don't be a fool. Everything has a time and place. Without emotions we wouldn't be human, we'd be nothing more than a rock going through actions. Not all emotions are equal, but neither is any worth more than another. If a craftsman brings a bag of tools with them one day, and finds that a hammer doesn't do the job, he doesn't toss away the hammer without thought of its use on another day.”

“Lets get to the point, shall we? You want knowledge, want to know what I know. I have knowledge. What then do you have to offer for that knowledge? And bear in mind, I don't trade on promises of future payments. I give my bit when I get what I'm owed in exchange for it, and no sooner.”

[Shimoje]

Showing Potential?

Clyde spoke of so many things, theorizing and hitting Shimoje in the face with ever turn as if to completely stop the trail of mind games flowing. Shimoje turned around and looked at the embodiment of wisdom as Clyde spoke of him to not get rid of his emotions. Shimoje was a bit burnt out and most of it went through one ear and out the other. His words about the hammer was true though. Shimoje would never throw out a tool, even if it was broken, because he could use it for so many other things. Perhaps this mage spoke the truth, and it was only obvious that knowledge comes with a price. “Nothing is ever easy.” Shimoje grunted out of his teeth in exhaustion.

“Well Sir, if it is as you said that everything has a time and a place. What worth can be placed on time. Surely yours is valuable, but who is to say that mine can be of equal. After all, my time is the same as yours.” Shimoje spoke metaphorically of course. He didn’t quite grasp what he could offer such a prevalent force. “My name is Shimoje, and amongst other things I guarantee you will not meet another such as I.” He was trying to sell himself to the mage. His skills and assets could only take him so far but deep down Shimoje knew that with enough of this knowledge that this mage spoke of he would be able to work his way to greatness. Perhaps further and beyond what even this mage could comprehend, but that was just inflated ego getting the best of him.

Shimoje knew that deep down he had responsibilities that he must take care of, and his experience so far has led him down a very interesting path. How does an inspiring scientist get involved with such things as killing bandits, chasing and researching Kriital, and more such adventures where such a weak person clearly shouldn’t belong. Perhaps it was his way of passing time. Time, it is a funny thing to speak of. Keeping track of it was just as hard as trying to sit and watch shadows move about as the sun crossed the sky. However, in this instant it came to a complete stand still as the two parties negotiated their terms of dealing with one another. What would Shimoje think of that would possibly interest this mage?

It felt as if it was just yesterday that he arrived to the city by ship. The ship had many wonders on it, and it was a huge impact on parts of his inspiration. There was so much more to study, and so much more to learn. Shimoje looked at Clyde with a newfound spark in his eyes, and took out a pieces of wood from his pack. He grabbed a few more wooden pieces and suddenly dropped to the ground to start whittling away like he had never done before. With a hatchet he cut the wood into 8 distinctively shaped parts. The blocks were about 5 inches large. With a collection of knives, he used from his woodcarvers kit he put curved edges coming into a half egg-shell shape with room faceted on the other side to stick something. He then took another piece of wood and started drawing on it to take the shape of a cog, and another doing the same thing only smaller. The two cogs soon took shape as Shimoje quickly carved them with his knife. The creation was starting to take shape, and each shape had similar portions that would slide and lock them in place as if to be put together like a puzzle. Finally, he crafted some sort of wooden handle a few screws that would fit within the cogs. The bottom piece finally was starting to take shape having a smaller nook as if to catch something in.

He started to piece everything together and if the pieces didn't fit perfectly he trimmed them to make them fit, but surely this probably would have tested the mage’s presence. Regardless he was so tied up in his craft he wasn’t even aware of his surroundings. All of this was done with the basic knowledge he obtained from studying in Zeltiva and here in Syliras. He pieced everything together and took out a piece of chalk he used to draw the cogs and placed it in the hole of top of the device. Finally, he was ready to test it out. He placed the chalk into the contraption and pulled on the handle. The cogs moved, but the movement was rough without any oil on hand, regardless it still worked – and perfectly ground up chalk fell to the cavity below. The physics behind the contraption worked on rotational force and worked in a way where the amount of force of the cogs increase the force applied substantially. A faceted wood plate knocked anything that was not ground enough back up into the cogs. It could potentially grind more substances than chalk as well. Perhaps leaves or roots, but nothing that is harder than wood itself.

Shimoje fingered some of the fine powder from the cavity and it seemed be so fine it some of it rubbed into his skin. Much finer than a grain of sand. He took his finger and wiped it across his arm, leaving a chalky trace of a perfect circle on his arm. “Much easier than a mortar and pestle, right?” Shimoje said as he smiled and looked upwards for the mage who clearly was not present. He walked over to the door and knocked, device in hand. "Sir, It is me, Shimoje." He spoke through the door. About one whole bell had passed, but Shimoje had no idea.

"I don't know if this would of use to you, but I do know that I came up with this at the top of my head. What is more valuable that a resource like that?"

oocThis isn't exactly what was crafted, but fairly fairly close. Ignore the metal part in the picture.

Speech Thoughts

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde shook his head, disagreeing with the youth's assessment of each's time and its worth.

“Time is worth what you can do with it. I value my time much more than yours, because I know and believe that in the same given time I can do things of much more worth than you could. If I believed our time was of equal value, then I would be saying we were of equal worth. Does this seem as a discussion of equals, where I have as much to gain as you have? There is an imbalance between us, one tilted in my favor.”

“This means one of two solutions. Either you find a way to do more in your given time, or you spend more of your time to equal the value of what I can confer in a lesser amount of time. Making more out of your time however is something that in and of itself takes time, and cannot be done immediately. In the short term then a greater quantity is the answer, if something desirable to the party with the greater valued item can be found. That is the basis of barter, that if one trades in things not equal then the item of lesser value or quality must be in greater quantity.”

Clyde watched the youth as he took out some wood, something that was quickly followed by various tools.

He however rolled his eyes as the youth dropped to the floor and began to play with his things. Clyde was an impatient man at times, and he'd already shown how much he valued his own time. This boy however didn't seem to value his own time, as he expected Clyde to just sit and wait while he did whatever grand thing he was doing.

Clyde was having none of that, and after waiting a chime or two went back into his lab, locking the door behind him.

He didn't hear a knock, which meant he was either still working, had left and given up, or was waiting and expecting Clyde to return.

Letting out a sigh, Clyde walked back across his lab to what he'd been doing earlier, and picked up the paint. Taking a moment to catch up to where he was in his mind, he saw where he'd left off after repairing the prior glyph, and began searching for another one.

He took his time, repairing the glyphs exactly and perfectly as they'd been before, not rushing or making a mess. In this moment he wasn't in a hurry, and he knew what he had to do.

Even so, with his skill he made short work of things, and ceaselessly spilled his motions from one glyph or sigil sequence into another. It was only the raw size of the warding that meant it would take so long to check over and repair.

Clyde kept working until he heard a knock at the door. He let out a slow breath, calming himself, and finished off the last glyph he had been working on. With that done he closed his pot of paint, and carefully stepped out of the warding without marring any of the freshly drawn glyphs.

He took his time in walking back to the door, picking up Cha on the way. By the time he went to open the door he'd left the boy waiting several chimes since he'd knocked. Then he waited a few breaths before unlocking the door, stepping back out into the hallway similarly to as he had earlier so as to block the inside of his lab before shutting the door.

Clyde eyed the contraption, a rough piece of work unlike the finely polished and well planned contraptions and golems he'd seen on Sahova. It seemed the youth was somewhat good with his hands, or making simple things and gadgets of sorts.

He wasn't really sure what this one was supposed to do, but he assumed it was something or other. Considering he'd not taken too long in terms of such things, nor had proper facilities, it wasn't too bad.

Then again, this might also be the reach of his skill, and had he been given the requisite provisions of his trade perhaps he'd not have made a much better contraption.

Clyde held out his hand and waved it at the item he held, gesturing at it.

“And what is it supposed to do exactly?”

As he explained his contraption, Clyde would stand and listen, giving him his chance to say his piece. Once he was done, Clyde would peer at the boy, before asking a question in turn so as to gauge his skill.

As he thought of his question he was reminded of a one armed man he'd seen earlier in the season, and his condition.

“Could you make an arm? A working arm, one that can bend and function like a normal one? And what sorts of things have you made before?”