Solo Weaving a New Life Together

[Etoil Nimbral]

Summer 1, AV 523
Early Nightfall

The open ocean was beautiful. It was also exhausting. They had been at sea for quite some time, and the ship was a bit worse for wear. Etoil had busied himself these past few days with patching and repatching sails torn open by storm and wind, hoping to knock a bit of the cost of his journey down. As he busied himself with mending a torn sail, he looked out towards the quickly approaching coastline. Thank Leth they were reaching Syka past nightfall, it would be so much less of a hassle. He had quickly learned during his travels that people tended to really dislike Symenestra, and were significantly more welcoming of Ethaefal. Glancing at his reflection in the moonlit water, Etoil had little trouble understanding why. Even though he didn't look quite normal, he looked a lot less scary than he did during the daytime. Of course, the captain and crew on this vessel knew full well what he was. But it didn't stop them from being a bit creeped out by him during the day. It was understandable. The stories about kidnapping and blood drinking definitely did not help. This had led him to keep to a mostly nocturnal schedule, which was easy enough on a boat.

The crew started getting ready to dock at the harbor as the coastline approached. Etoil set down the bit of fabric he had been attempting to mend and approached the ship's railing, looking at the beach as sailors bustled to and fro, making last minute preparations. As he did so, one of the merchants on the ship with him sidled up beside him, lighting a pipe. "Ah can ya smell it? The place just stinks like money. We're early too!" He smiled at the man, and nodded. He didn't really have anything against merchants, and though some might interpret the comment as being a bit money grubbing for comfort, Etoil understood it was just part of how the world worked. Turning to the man, he nodded and spoke. "You know, I don't think you're wrong. I'm here looking for weaving work myself." The trader nodded back in approval. "Aye, could've guessed as much from how you've been tending to the sails the whole way over. Got a bit of talent there, eh? Feel free to swing by my trading post if you've got any product ready to move." They shared a few more words, remarking on their common friendship with Bilian, who had gotten Etoil a spot on this ship in the first place. The thought of Bilian was both comforting and melancholic for Etoil. Bilian and Gros, his two lifelong companions, somewhere between friends and parents in their relationship with him, were the entire reason he was making his way to Syka in the first place. After some tough conversation, they had convinced him it would be the absolute pits were he to stick around until they died. He was functionally immortal in a sense, and his friends didn't enjoy the same privilege. Rather than watching him stay the same as they withered away, they wanted to be assured someone who had a good thing or two to say about them made it to a further corner of Mizahar than they had ventured.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Etoil readied himself for his first bit of business on the island, which he was expecting to occur before even getting off the ship. The captain of this vessel, James Chaliva, also happened to be one of the men in charge of the colony in Syka. It was a good idea to get all properly introduced as soon as possible, let the man know his intentions and the like.

Before he could make a move to head towards where he guessed the captain would be, he saw the man sidle up to him, waving the merchant he'd been chatting with away. "How is it going there? Wanted to say I appreciate your attempts at patching up some of that torn sailcloth, even if you didn't get very far." Etoil suppressed a grimace. It was true, he hadn't gotten very far. Speaking honestly, he had little idea of how to handle the fabrics used for sailing, but it hadn't stopped him from doing his best.

"Ah you know, couldn't bear to be a freeloader. At least I don't think I made any of it worse." Captain Chaliva gave him a smile at this, appreciating the display of honesty. Etoil had learned long ago that it was not in your best interest to make yourself sound more useful than you really were. You ran the risk of getting yourself in over your head, or worse, disappointing people who relied on you.

James looked him up and down, seeming to size him up. The captain spoke again. "Sounds like you've got the right idea to fit into the place. If you don't work, you don't eat." The man tapped his chin for a second. "So tell me, are you looking to set up shop out here?"

Etoil blanched a bit at this. Set up shop? He had no clue how bookkeeping worked. He had even less of a clue how to make sure he wasn't weaving clothing for the recently deceased. "Haha.. no, no. I don't think I aim to set up my own shop. I intended to search for a job with an established weaver, at least until I've got some more unique products to bring to market."

The captain nodded. He had a better idea of the creature standing in front of him now. "Aye, sensible. I'd suggest you skip on over to Tropical Fever, that's where you'll find our weaver. Don't ham it up too much, but you can let them know you did a bit of sail mending for us if it helps."

The Ethaefal smiled. Great. He had a lead to go on. The next step was finding a place to hole up during the daytime, he wasn't keen on heading out into town looking like a rapacious spider warrior hungry for blood. At least, not until he had some assurance that the locals were somewhat enlightened.

"What about lodging? I suppose there must be an inn here where I could get set up for a bit?" Before James could answer, his attention was divided. A sailor had come up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder, looking like he had something important to say. Giving Etoil a brief apologetic look, James cut the conversation short. "Sorry about that, I can fill you in shortly. For now, just hang tight while we get our ship ready to unload and the like. Duty calls and that."

Etoil smiled and nodded. There wasn't any rush. If there was anything he had, it was time. Looking back out over the ship's railing, he soaked in the coastline. It was really quite a rustic sight. Lots and lots of greenery, as yet fairly undisturbed by the slowly emerging settlement. But hints of civilization and business weren't entirely absent either. It looked quiet, but not too quiet. And if the sailor's stories were anything to go by, the quiet rapidly ended as soon as you made your way to the edge of town, where an as of yet untamed jungle presented opportunities and problems alike for the locals. This would certainly be a night to remember.

[Gossamer]

The crew of The Veronica worked like a well-oiled machine, swinging into action and pulling the sails at just the right time to glide her into the harbor at Syka and up to her U shaped dock to be tied off in her usual place. They swung by a mysterious island that showed no signs of habitation and deftly avoided not one but two rather large reefs on the way in. This was the ship’s home port of call and she fit into her slip like a hand into a glove. The white sand beaches that surrounded Syka Bay gleamed in the moonlight while a cooling evening breeze caused the palms to sway gently.

Then it happened. Almost like magic, the once empty seemingly abandoned dock was full of people. Someone was there to tie off the starboard side and a gangplank was being wrestled into place. The turnout was astonishing, with people wandering in from all over, not only from the heart of the settlement but laughingly jogging up the beach and down, all converging on the docks.

James took a moment to grin at Etoil a moment, nodding his chin towards the incoming crowd. “We only have about a hundred people here in Syka, but when The Veronica comes home, everyone turns out to help her dock, unload, and refit. It’s the way we do things here.” He added, before a sailor stopped him, asked a question, and the Captain was swept into the crowd for a moment.

No one really expected the passengers to know what to do. Instead, the community as a whole seemed to surge upwards like a tidal wave of bodies and flood the ship, everyone gathering something and beginning a chaotic yet organized march towards The Commons. Most of the people were younger… early twenties, perhaps thirties, with a scattering of older folk that appeared fit. Ashta, small elephants, soon arrived on the scene, and big wagons they pulled were loaded up to make deliveries of things that the ship had brought for people who lived further out. Lizards, easily as big as horses, also pulled carts that got loaded. They had strangely intelligent eyes and came in all sorts of jewel-like colors. Someone started a fire in the main Communal Kitchen, and the smell of roasting meat soon filled the air.

A random sailor, one that had helped Etoil wrestle sails before, stopped the young man and gestured. “Head to The Commons at the end of that path. When we make port, they always fix a feast while we unload, and feed everyone. You can probably run into Mathias or Randal and get settled. Don’t worry about finding them, they will find you…” He added, implying that Etoil was a stranger and everyone and anyone was known there.

“You can help with the unload if you want, but it's not necessary… not this first time. After this though, if you stay, be sure you always come down and help. Its part of our culture now.” He said with a grin, before turning to take a crate of what appeared to be ingots of iron from someone handing such things from the cargo hold. Grunting under the strain of the weight, the sailor headed off to the communal forge, where he was simply guessing the iron went.

Etoli was free to wander ashore, look around The Commons, find a nice place to sit or even to help unload the ship.

Soon enough though, regardless of what he was doing, a mature man – already shirtless in the heat – spotted him and did a double take. He cautiously approached, gave the newcomer a once over, and offered his hand. “Hi there. I’m Randal, one of the men in charge around here. I don’t recognize you from James’ regular crew. Are you just visiting Syka or hoping to stay a while?” He asked thoughtfully, his eyes not unfriendly, but not without caution. The man had dark hair, and deeply tanned skin, and was currently hefting what looked like a sewing machine built into a small table that had its own wheel and foot pump attached. The piece was no doubt heavy, but the man carried it as if it weighed no more than a sack of flour.

“We don’t see many…. Ethafael is it?... around here.” He said carefully, his words not wholly unfriendly. The tone was more cautious than anything. Randal realized that James wouldn’t escort anyone to Syka aboard The Veronica that he hadn’t already carefully vetted and assessed as a threat or more importantly a lack of one. Mathias would have known immediately. But Randal was a man of action, and first-hand encounters, and didn’t typically have the means to see the way the other two Founders did.

“I’m one of the people one would want to talk to about staying… making living arrangements, acquiring a job if one is needed, that type of thing.” He said firmly, knowing full well strangers to the settlement might not understand there was no active government here and the only leadership consisted of three male friends that had financed the venture into Falyndar to start with. Syka had been the result of that venture.

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[Etoil Nimbral]

The hustle and bustle of unloading was entertaining to watch. Etoil was a fan of sailors, not least because they reminded him of his good friend. Beyond that, they were good natured and hard working. He smiled at the sailor telling him about the local unloading practice, finding it charming. "Thanks for letting me know. I think I want to get a quick start on getting settled in, but I'll help pile up the ruined sailcloth at least." Flagging down another sailor, Etoil got to folding up fabric and getting it down to the docks, where it would eventually be taken to a local tailor.

As he got done carrying the last of the stuff, he was approached by a sun-seared fellow with dark hair. It seemed to be a popular look here on Syka, though Etoil seemed to remember getting a tan was sort of involuntary for humans. Between keeping out of the sun and changing shape every night, it wasn't something he dealt with.

He accepted the man's outstretched hand and smiled. Flashing a grin at the comment about his racial background, he thought it best to use the comment as an opportunity to preempt future mishaps. "Yes, I'm sure you don't. Probably even less Symenestra, but you'll be seeing one in the morning if you catch my drift. It'd be a huge favor to me if you could let some people know, I'd hate to scare anyone."

The sailors on the ship had chatted a bit about Syka as something of a lawless but not uncivilized place. There were good men here, but not enough of them that they had to take up the arduous task of figuring out a good government. That would've probably been beyond them anyway, it seemed to be beyond almost everyone. He'd have to get acclimated to this, being used to the rather more formalized practices in Lhavit, which was a metropolis in comparison to this small portside town.

He realized he hadn't actually answered the man's first question, being overly distracted by the whole race discussion. "Ah right! Terribly rude of me. Pleasure to meet you Randal. My name is Etoil. And yes, I plan to stay a while." It was a good chance to get further details sorted out as well, so Etoil figured he could press on.

"I'm pleased to hear you talk about a job. I'm certainly looking for one, soon as I get a room or something sorted at the local inn, I'm sure you can point me there." As they spoke, Etoil unclasped his cloak and took a seat on a sturdy crate nearby, settling in for the chat. "I suppose as far as a job goes, I've got a few talents." He motioned at the cloak he was wearing. "I'm a weaver, you can see one of my products here. I'm no master artisan, but I can certainly put out clothing that lasts a bit. This thing might be in its teenage rebellion phase soon." He gazed up at the starry sky next. "I'm no navigator, but I can tell you plenty about stars. More on the Zintila side of things than on the map and sextant side."

He considered his next words carefully. He wasn't one to talk loosely about his magical talents, as he had gathered through his travels that the prevalence of magic among his adoptive family was decidedly abnormal in most parts of the world. But if the man he was speaking to was clever, he was fairly certain he could take a hint. "I shouldn't forget to mention my less cheerful know-how. I grew up around a sailor, he took me by the docks pretty often. I ended up learning a good bit about uh... the send-offs you know. Sailors in Lhavit get pretty particular about mourning. And I have something of a knack for dealing with that anyway. Hope it doesn't have to come up often, but its part of life. The last part usually. And if its not, well, I know about that too."

He hoped he hadn't said too much. For the most part, he thought it was a fairly clever way to hint at his talent with spiritism. He hopped off the crate and looked back at the hustle and bustle surrounding him and his conversation partner. "Seems to me almost everyone is out here, its not too late in the night either. The Captain mentioned something about a clothier here, the owner of Tropical Fever? Could you point me at them? I think I know my way around weaving well enough to get started helping out there pretty quickly."

[Gossamer]

Randal nodded at Etoils comment. The Syka rumor mill was fast for a small settlement. If the young man wanted a hundred people to know something, he’d just have to mention it briefly… that much was for sure. “Well met, Etoil. Yes… that definitely will be a shock for a few individuals. Symenestra has less than a stellar reputation, especially the young males in the race. But you’ll find that people will tend to judge you by you here. Syka is a place, we’ve been discovering, of statistical outliers. And I can bet you suit that category just by the fact you are bearing Leth’s immortal visage currently.” He added, indicating he was definitely familiar with the two types of Ethafael and their heritage. “We have more than one constructed race here… Konti for example,” Randal added.

The Sykan Founder listened to Etoil as he spoke, nodding occasionally, and then settled on a crate opposite of him to respond. “Tazrae will give you a room, I’m sure. Her Inn is just reopening after some remodeling for the spring… adding a second layer. She has a talent for cooking, so if you make your dietary needs known, I’m sure she will accommodate.” He added, then looked thoughtful.

“Weaver huh? I don’t know if you’ve heard about our Isuas plants here, but when we settled Syka, we discovered a plant much like cotton only tropical that can be woven in the same exact manner. It’s stronger, more durable and lighter than cotton. We call it Isuas. The Swiftwater family oversees it. Tony runs the plantation farm that grows the Isuas in huge tropical fields and his wife Dawn runs a weaving shop in town called Tropical Fever. They have a whole host of types of looms there and are always looking for weavers and people with talents in dying and the like. I know Dawn does some on-the-job training as well. And I’ve even known people that weave at home on their own looms or at the beach or commons and get paid as part of her staff. It’s all in what you arrange with her if you like the look of her setup. She pays fairly and isn’t tight with her coin purse. The Isuas fetches top mizas in trade and at places like The Outpost.” He said, then ran his hand through his hair, looking thoughtful.

Randal looked thoughtful, trying to piece together what Etoil was saying. It took him a moment then he nodded. “Spiritism. You are a spiritist. Don’t worry, Etoil. Magic we can speak openly about here. And as dangerous as Syka can be, we’ve been lucky to only have one death since our founding… and that was a murder by an outsider of our local schoolmistress. One of the children was actually a priest of Rhysol masquerading as a youth. That schoolmistress Michaela’s older sister showed up shortly thereafter and was none to pleased. She’s also a very powerful spiritist among other things and isn’t so friendly. Tread lightly around her. Otherwise, the rest of us are doing our best to make sure a death priest isn’t needed very often.” Randal said, almost bringing up the Velispar but deciding against it.

The Settlement was currently in negotiations to contract an Earth Velispar to handle their dead. Cities throughout Mizahar had all sorts of ways dead were disposed of. In Wind Reach, the bodies were cast into a living volcano. Other places, like Sunberth, they were buried in cemeteries. But in ancient times, the people of Alahea always had Death Warden and Memory Keepers in the form of giant Velispar. These creatures ate the dead and whatever memories had accumulated in the brains and heart of the dead became part of the Velispar. Velispar were enormous intelligent reptiles that had a wisdom and ingenuity that eclipsed humans and humanoids.”

“Dawn Swiftwater indeed. Come with me… I saw her headed back to her shop with a load of silk. I’ll take you by there then drop you at the Inn.” Randal said as he rose and headed east. There were businesses that lined the core of the area that the Sykans seemed to feel were their commons. Tropical Fever Fashions was on a beach view lot with an incredible view. Tucked back into the jungle were more buildings connected to the Tropical Fashion that looked as if they housed the looms. Instead of being completely solid, the buildings looked as if they had sides that could be rolled up and down to allow airflow or block rain.

Located east of the docks and west of Mathias' Bungalow, Tropical Fever Fashions was a beachfront bungalow with an incredible view of Syka, its Commons, and has a large living space above the retail shop for the Swiftwater Family. The shop itself was a bit of an overkill for Syka's denizens, but in many ways, it's also Syka's one tourist trap. Since Tony farms Isuas in the area, Dawn has a corner on the market in terms of clothing and incredible textiles. And since she was from a family of master dyers and weavers - and being one herself - the almost indestructible fabric comes in a wide variety of colors and patterns.

The front of the shop was like walking into a kaleidoscope of colors in all sorts of textures. Big glass doors were usually thrown open, allowing for the flowing fabric to wave back and forth in a riot of shades and woven textures. The fabrics range from simple jungle-inspired hues colored from raw materials around Syka to more bold and vibrant woven and embroidered materials that can be used for formal affairs. Bolts of isuas fabric line the walls in racks designed to house the fabrics. Dawn has a huge variety of offerings and had a large cutting table to measure out and cut fabric to any length a person might desire. Past the fabric were notions - thread, needles, buttons, fasteners, fancy laces, and all sorts of accessories someone who enjoys sewing might need. Dawn even made up little sewing kits for people wanting to try their hand at making their own garments.

Once past the fabrics, there was a selection of both men's and women's fashion. Some of the garments were ready-made. Other racks held samples of apparel that people could select a piece from and then pick out custom fabric and have garments made from fabrics they choose in their actual size. People could buy anything from a crocheted bikini to tough double-layered jungle pants that would hold up under the worst conditions known to Syka's residents. A master at matching color to the individual, Dawn was renowned in Riverfall for dressing men and women in the best colors and cuts most suited for each individual. Dawn is also known for designing innovative clothing that is cutting-edge fashion-wise. Her experimental garments always set trends in other cities which had the trade often scrambling to get her new designs.

Randal led Etoil right into the shop, not bothering to knock. Etoil would not the door was not locked and indeed had no way to lock itself. They passed through the various sections until they came to the back room where a lovely older lady with greying hair and a lithe figure was still sorting and stacking silks. She turned, unstartled, and gave them both a smile. “Randal! What brings you by today?” She asked in a grin.

The man gestured at Etoil. “Dawn, this is Etoil. He’s a Symenestra by day and has a knack for weaving. I believe he is looking for a job.” Randal explained, then stepped back so Dawn could get a good look at the youth. Dawn nodded, looked the man over, and paid particular attention to the newcomer’s hands. She was looking for signs he was a weaver, for certain.

“Nice to meet you, Etoil. Tell me about yourself. We are indeed always looking for more weavers…. Tailors too if you have the knack. What sort of things do you know?” She asked, curiously. He could tell right away she was open to hiring a Symenestra. She just wanted to make sure he was a skilled one.



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[Etoil Nimbral]

Etoil was pleased to hear Randal describe the residents of Syka as open-minded. It suited him perfectly. He was also amused to hear the man describe him as a young male, by the looks of Randal he couldn't have been any older than forty. Etoil was about a decade older, but he didn't look it. He didn't comment, he found that tended to leave people a bit miffed at their own mortality. The man seemed to know his stuff too, accurately fingering him as one of Leth's own. It didn't take a genius to extrapolate further about age from there.

Etoil's ears perked up at the mention of Konti. Bilian had insisted that if he ran into any of them, he should have a bit of a chat. It wasn't likely, but his old sailor friend seemed to think it was possible Etoil would run into his old lover, a lover whose name he didn't even know. He was also curious to meet one anyway, he hadn't yet had the pleasure but had heard a lot of the interesting stories about them.

Taking the mention of the inn in stride, as it seemed like a done deal to Etoil, he was much more interested in the mention of this Isuas stuff. "You're right, I hadn't heard of those plants. They sound so interesting though, I'd love to work with some." It figured there was already a family that had claimed the stuff, those kinds of businesses were usually family affairs in Etoil's experience with plantation owners. That they were also the resident weavers made perfect sense as well, what had his business associates described the phenomenon as? Vertical integration or something along those lines.

It was certainly interesting to hear how loose the process was at the shop, he was used to independent work and it suited him just fine. But he also liked the idea of the shop floor, a place to build camaraderie and new friendships. "You know, it sounds like the sort of place I could fit into."

On the topic of spiritism, Etoil was similarly glad to hear Syka was an accepting place. Their current experience with it seemed rather morbid, involving the death of a schoolteacher and a wizened spiritist. He wasn't really too keen on sticking his nose into that, it sounded like it was an issue best left to those already involved.

The comment about doing their best to not need a death priest struck Etoil as odd. To him, death was always omnipresent. You couldn't really do much to prevent the need for the kind of work spiritists did. The world had a way of demanding their services whether you wanted it to or not. But he didn't say anything, not everyone had the same thought process as him. If anything, on the timescale he was living on, most of the residents were already close to the end. But that didn't sit right with most to hear.

Following Randal, he looked across the commons. Shops and stalls lined the street, and new goods were making their way from the port to their storage spaces. As they approached Tropical Fashions, Etoil gave a whistle as he saw the view. "By the Moon, what a gorgeous site. You lot certainly have no shortage of scenic vistas." He looked out at the water, with a mixture of calm satisfaction and painful memory. It was where he had been born, and he could feel its pull always, especially when it was bathed in moonlight. The shop looked big, with some space for looms in the back, set up in a flexible way. Perfect.

Making his way into the store, Etoil was a bit put off. All the color! He knew it was a tropical fashion, and that the well-to-do all over the place were fans of deep purples and glorious reds, but it wasn't to his taste. He was interested in grey, black, white, and the shades in-between. Those colors suited him well, matching his demeanor and his talents. But he wasn't here to judge, he was here to get a job. Snapping back into reality, he followed Randal further.

The shopkeeper, Dawn, was on the older side, but looked to be one of those people with an inner youth to them. As Randal introduced him, Etoil gazed at her, taking in the sight of his potential new employer. She didn't even comment on his Symenestra background, which was fine by him. A fair woman perhaps. And now came the interview. He caught her eyes resting on his hands and smiled. They probably looked like they hadn't done a days work in their entire existence, his nighttime divinity left him largely unmarked by the wear and tear that weaving brought to mortal hands.

"A pleasure to meet you as well madam. I hail from Lhavit, where I wove to support myself amidst a group of other craftspeople." He paused to think about what his most marketable skills were. It struck him to repeat what he had told Randal. "I wove the cloak you see me wearing now. It doesn't compare to this finery on display, but its durable and not too hard on the eyes if I do say so myself." He continued, while waving a hand vaguely around the garment. "I'd say my knack when it comes to weaving is in textile preparation. I'm familiar with the basics, cottons, wools, other fibers. I know how to strip them, how to treat them so they take dyes, that sort of thing. My needlework is lacking, but I've been working on it."

Keeping in mind that Randal had told him people here didn't harbor suspicion towards magic, he hazarded an extra bit of self-advertisement. "You know, I haven't worked it out yet, but I do have an idea for making an extra bit of coin. My master in Lhavit helped me do it, but I can't quite get it right myself yet. She would work some soulmist into the garments I wove, and people paid a pretty miza for it. My own isn't quite so potent, but maybe I could get there. I think adventurers are really interested in it, perfect for exploring ruins and such."

He paused there, not wanting to talk her ear off. "Well, if you'll have me, I'd be happy to do a few days of a trial period. Show off what I can do a bit. Always eager to learn more from those with experience as well."

[Gossamer]

Had Etoil’s assumption has been spoken out loud, Randal would have laughed. Most of Syka wasn’t open-minded to certain things. They were certain, for example, that other places suppressed magic because those in authority didn’t want average people to have power. They were definitely closed-minded to the aspects that certain Gods were benevolent. Rhsyol, for example, was not a popular figure and odds are they would slay a follower the moment they learned someone followed the Evil One. They knew Gods walked among them for in fact, they did brush shoulder to shoulder with them daily when those that called Syka home were in residence.

No one would have cared about his age versus how he looked. If he looked young, they’d assume he was young until he proved himself differently. If anything, his Eth status would gain him pity here rather than admiration. Most everyone knew that those who earned the grace of Syna and Leth’s Dominions and were subsequently booted from them were booted for a reason. Either the deities had grown bored with them, they’d lost the favor of the skyvinity or they’d somehow broken rules. It made the denizens more cautious, for religion was spoken about in Syka openly and expressively. People talked. The Jungle days and nights were long without good conversation, debate, and education.

Dawn smiled when he said he could fit in. “We have a multitude of looms here. Everything from a modest backstrap loom, jacquard loom, shuttle types, band weavings, tapestry looms, a multitude of small inkle looms, as well as a big table and a big floor loom. The smaller ones… like the backstrap and inkles, we haul out onto the beach to weave the afternoon away on hot days. Even the brief rain storms don’t bother us then.” She said, passing through the retail space and into the workspace, leading him on more of a tour.

She had fibers by the ton too, some compacted and wrapped into bricks, and others in open loose bins. There were areas of spinning wheels to spin fibers into thread since yarn was just as important as weaving. The two skills went hand and hand. Dawn imported huge spools of thread for her looms and they were racked neatly by type and consistency in the workrooms as well. The walls of the workroom could be rolled up or down, tent-like material of thick Isuas, making airflow in the heat easily achieved. Like all the buildings in Syka, the most used portions of them were lofted to take advantage of the breeze. Tropical Fever was no different. There was retail space below and living quarters above. The workspace seemed to span both levels in a complex system where additions had been added as the need arose.

Dawn noted his cloak as she listened to his run-down of assets. She hardly paid attention to his list of good qualities. Time would tell on that and it was her experience that people often oversold themselves in their eagerness to acquire work. After all, her last two weavers had arrogance in abundance that had cost them much and made them leave Syka in haste. She didn’t know if the horned child of Leth would be any different. But help was help and beggars couldn’t be choosers. The cloak was novice work at best, with missed weaves and piled threads that she could spot immediately. It was also a very drab color, not suitable to the tastes of Sykans. If that was the type of weaving he did, she couldn’t actually set him loose on garment fabric and maintain her reputation. He’d have to start with simple floor weaves and privacy tapestries. And thinner less important gauzy material and linens would show flaws all that more readily, so until the Eth could get his weaving up to a competency she could display, then she’d have to have him restricted to what he could weave.

When he started speaking about soulmist and weaving such things into the garments, Dawn shook her head. “Oh no. No distractions. To be honest, with the quality of the cloak you are displaying as your work, I can’t even use you on Isuas right now. I’d have to start you out on floor runners, tapestries and the like. I can see flaws in the work from here, and that’s not what I sell Sykans in my shop. I can easily use the extra work and we always need weavers, but you’ll have to gain some skill at weaving before you are fully acceptable to make decent clothing here. The most I could offer you is novice weaver pay at four Mizas a day. That will increase as your skill increases. And you have admitted you don’t sew decently and I suspect you don’t spin either. There is a whole lot that goes into Tropical Fever’s goods… so you will have to work hard to earn a spot on the racks with your weaves.” Dawn said simply, being honest with the youth but not unkindly so.

“A trial period might be best… to see if we can get your skill level up. Right now, I’d leave you on some of the lesser looms and heavier yarns. Belts, bags, things that students learn on.” She added. “But if I teach, its on your time not mine. I won’t pay you to learn. That’s not how apprenticeships work.” She said with a grin She hadn’t been born yesterday, and while they needed more help, she didn’t train the competition. She trained people she decided she could trust. And the jury was still out on Etoil’s personality.

“I’ll give you three days… and supply you with the loom of your choice plus materials. I get to keep what you weave and your hiring will depend on what you produce.” She said firmly. Dawn felt it was a fair offer, one that Randal gave her a subtle nod to as well.

When Etoil’s business was done with the weaver, Randal would jump in. “Ready to go see the housing options? I’ll take you to the Inn, but should see the beach camping which is free, and tour a bungalow in case you are interested in a bit more privacy than an Inn can grant.” He added, his voice cheerful. He thought Dawn had let the young Eth off easily. She was usually highly critical of new people and their boasts of skill. But then again, he’d heard the Swiftwater’s complain about Lhavit’s fabric quality before. That’s why he’d stopped bringing goods other than silks from that region. And then, he only brought raw silk, so that Dawn could play with the processing all on her own.

“Ready?” Randal asked, ready to get a move on.



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[Etoil Nimbral]

Etoil gave a whistle as the woman went through a rather impressive list of looms. This was really a proper shop, not like anywhere he had worked before. He looked around at the fibers neatly organized around the shop, similarly impressed. They were really high quality material, again, stuff he hadn't worked with before. He silently cursed himself for talking a bigger talk than he was qualified to. The place was no joke, and his cloak certainly didn't compare to anything on offer. Were he to be fully honest with himself, he'd have to admit it was hardly worth more than most of the raw material laying around here, let alone the finished products.

As she led him through the store, he couldn't suppress his excitement about the quality of the store. "Randal didn't do your store justice in his description! This place is really something, your craftsmanship has left me impressed." In response to her comment about distractions, he nodded. "Got it. That'll be a pursuit done on my own time." He didn't take the remainder of her comment too harshly, even being called a novice by a woman as skilled as this was, if anything, a compliment. "You're right madam, I don't spin as of yet. And four mizas a day sounds perfectly fair."

Considering the prospect of a spot on the racks, given some improvement in his craft, had him excited. It'd be an honor. He thought back to his time in Lhavit and felt reassured that he had really made the right decision going out into the world. He hadn't seen work like this there, and doubted he would've found a place of similar quality that had as open an attitude as this one. Perhaps a rich person's personal staff might produce goods of this quality, but those sorts didn't take on apprentices.

He was comfortable with the proposal, all in all. A brief trial period made sense, both for Dawn and himself. If it turned out he didn't enjoy the work, or found it beyond his depth, he wouldn't face any further issues once the trial was over. "Of course, I wouldn't dream of asking for free instruction. I'd be happy to start on whatever goods you put me to. Putting out some plain weave on a backstrap loom shouldn't be beyond my capabilities, but of course, that's up to you, not up to me."

He wanted to end the encounter on a good note. The woman had extended a basic modicum of trust, and offered fair but restrained criticism. He extended a hand to give the arrangement some formality. "Thank you kindly for your time. I'd be happy to accept your offer. Let me know the time you'd like me to start, and I'll be there."

As his business concluded with Dawn, he turned to Randal, who was urging him to check out the housing options. "Yes, I'm ready." As the man described the various housing options, Etoil felt a bit overwhelmed. He wasn't quite ready to look at bungalows or campsites. What he needed was a bed and some time to compose himself. His energy was about drained for the day.

"I appreciate your willingness to show me everything on offer, but if it's not rude, I'd like to retire for the night sooner rather than later. The trip from Lhavit left me rather more exhausted than I had thought at first." He underscored this point with a stifled yawn. "Please, lead the way to the inn. I'm sure I can check out the remainder of the housing options in the days to come."

[Gossamer]

Dawn Swiftwater nodded. “Come by tomorrow or the next day, whenever you are ready, and we’ll get started. I’ll give you supplies and make sure you have access to a proper loom that suits your abilities. It all depends on where you settle, where you want to work, and which type we will set you up with. We can talk about that on your first day.” She added, bidding the new young weaver goodbye.

Randal nodded, and dutifully led Etoil through the rest of the commons, slightly northward past Mathias’ place and onto The Protea. It was set off the Cobbled Pathway to the east, overlooking the beach. The pathway lead up to the front steps where the doors were thrown open wide to allow the sea breeze to blow through the two-story elegant building to cool it. It was there he left the young Eth to make his introduction to the Innkeeper and secure himself lodging. The place would have a few people, mainly guests and visitors, dining and playing cards in the common room.

“Have yourself a fine evening. Come find me tomorrow if you need anything. I’ll be about the Commons.” Randal promised. Then with a smile and slight wave, the Founder was off to tackle one of the hundred things he had to do with the arrival of The Veronica.



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