When You Gaze Long Into an Abyss... (Clyde)

[Ink]

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Thelma Jenkins stared for bells on end at the desiccated figure sitting on the desk. It was the artifact of the season and it had the researcher stumped. Often it was her habit to study artifacts within the stability of her dominion realm, but this piece seemed dimmed in that space. She could feel herself on the edge of breakthrough but the more she concentrated the less clear the item’s aura became. Now as research stalled and theory dawned, she moved from her desk perch. If Mizahar was less prohibitive than her space then perhaps a new claim still in the flux of discovery would illuminate the piece further. The Chaotic nature might bring the item’s purpose to light.

Sliding a piece of parchment from the sheath, she scribbled in splotchy ink. Tossing a hand of sand over the drippy message before blowing away the mixture. Practiced hands folded it into a letter and sealed it in candle wax with her signet ring. Flicking it back and forth in the air to ascertain it was dry one last time. Jenkins finally evacuated her desk in favor of Clyde’s workspace.

“Clyde take a break.” She interrupted without ceremony, “ I have need of you. Take this missive to the Doorman, he works on floor 25 of the Gug Adjak. Pick a door that suits you; Tellerwak will help. It is time that I teach you something.”

[Clyde Sullins]

15 Summer 514 Clyde sat at a worktable, with a piece of parchment before him. At the moment he had a small bit of respite, no direct job to do, no item to examine, no enchantment to copy and imbue onto an item. At least for the moment. He did not doubt that soon enough he would have a new bit of work to do, a new thing. At the moment he was filling out a report, copying down further details about a previous experiment, and writing out the steps he had performed. A line by line summary of his actions, telling how he had done what he did, in what order, and such. He knew from experience it was better to do it sooner, rather than later, lest his actions would fade into the depth of his memories, obscured by time. As he began to write out, giving the parchment a title for the project, he was interrupted by Jenkins his master. “Clyde take a break.” Pausing in his scribbling, Clyde looked up, seeing what she wanted. Her asking him to take a break was odd. Usually she just assigned him another task, or threw down something before him to examine, before wandering off to some other unstated task she had. “I have need of you. Take this missive to the Doorman, he works on floor 25 of the Gug Adjak. Pick a door that suits you; Tellerwak will help. It is time that I teach you something.” A bit confused, Clyde picked up Cha in his right hand from where she had been laying propped against the chair he sat on, and headed over to Jenkins. Without asking he took the paper she had written out, though confusion and curiosity was clear on his face, wondering what this was about. Also, he wondered who Tellerwak was, as he did not recall the name. Without any debate, Clyde nodded, taking the paper. “Yes master Jenkins.” Focusing on her words as he walked off, he wondered about her naming of the doorman. Was this some kind of title of the nuit? Or something else? He could not be sure... But neither name struck a memory within him. Whether or not he was well known, Clyde did not know him. Or her. It was often hard to tell with nuits. Following orders, Clyde would head down to floor 25, looking for the lab of this Tellerwak, or the doorman, or whomever it was labeled as. Though he was a bit uncertain what she meant by pick a door that suited him... Would there be more than one door?

[Ink]

Unlike the majority if labs, Tellerwak’s door remained open whenever he was in it. The main door led into a small entry office with a large desk and matching chairs. Upon the desk sat a book of obvious importance and significant size although not ancient by any means. From this room another door lay ajar, this door led into a library full of doors. Doors propped askew, doors lining the walls, doors to oblivion. Doors.

By all accounts it was a strange laboratory to a surface observer. The actual mundane function of a door was at best a full explored subject, at worse too basic to bother contemplation. The key to doors, is the metaphorical nature of magic. Intent mattered, and the metaphorical nature of a door? Now there was nothing mundane about that. Doors were gateways, the threshold between one thing and any other place imaginable.

These doors inspecific, ran in a variety of styles from un varnished cedar to ornate gilded woodworks. A number of doors seemed to have several components in their face wrought by a gadgeteer. It all became a matter of which door was Clyde’s?

After a number of chimes alone in the laboratory from behind a wall of doors a nuit hobbled out. Hobbled, because he walked with a cane. He was dressed sharply with a proud expression perched on his face. “Another mage who needs one of my doors?” The Nuit asked Clyde and identified him as the Doorman. “You must be new, I know all of the Masters and Wizards and they know my doors. The new Wizards are always the most fun.” Tellerwak added almost out-of-the-blue. Old dead and black eyes roved over Clyde’s appearance, “Or an apprentice…” he muttered thoughtfully. He held his free hand out for the note Clyde had been given. “Who sent you here and why?”

He snatched the missive and tore it open without ceremony. “Apprentices are never worthy of my creations. They’re too expensive and much more permanent. Apprentices meet ends on Sahova far more often than Wizards or Masters. Usually due to impertanance.” He nodded thoughtfully as he digested the letter. “But, if it is Thelma Jenkins who says you need a door, that is a knob of a different color.” He turned and began meandering through the hedge maze of doors. “If Jenkins says you get a door, you will have one. We have an agreement you see.”

After several chimes of quiet, and if Clyde had asked any questions they were not answered. “What door appeals to you Clyde? That matters most, what should your door do? Do you want a slab of wood that opens? Should it have a lock? A Shield? Should your door greet you in the morning or only at night? Answer for yourself not only the mundane questions but the magical. Doors of all stripes can be found here.”

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde's supposition that there would be more than one door soon proved correct. Not only was there more than one door, there was a multitude. Of course in the domain of a nuit called the doorman, perhaps that made sense. After walking through the first door, there was a second, and through it a whole hall of doors. Along with numbers, there was a wide variety of doors. Finely crafted doors, doors that could have been created by the newest craftsman, and doors that seemed to include skills in other things beyond simple woodworking. Luckily Clyde was not forced to puzzle out which door to take, as a well appointed nuit slowly hobbled forth, a cane in hand. This seemed a bit odd to Clyde, as it seemed that a nuit could simply get a new body. So why would it show age or infirmity? “Another mage who needs one of my doors?” “You must be new, I know all of the Masters and Wizards and they know my doors. The new Wizards are always the most fun.” The mention of fun threw Clyde off for a moment. He did not believe he had ever heard a nuit mention fun or enjoyment. The thought did bring to mind the idea of what nuit's did for fun... If nothing else, it did tell Clyde that this nuit was not as most of those he had met. “Or an apprentice…” A hand pushed forward, waiting for the note that Clyde held. It answered the next question to come. “Who sent you here and why?” As he scanned through the note Clyde had brought, he took the time to look about the room. It seemed more door than room, or a room of doors. “Apprentices are never worthy of my creations. They’re too expensive and much more permanent. Apprentices meet ends on Sahova far more often than Wizards or Masters. Usually due to impertanance.” Clyde grinned back at the nuit, his words oddly straightforward. A nice change, considering the politics most on Sahova dealt in. His words matched what Clyde have seen of the isle, of the worth of apprentices, and how the higher ranking mages worked. “But, if it is Thelma Jenkins who says you need a door, that is a knob of a different color.” As the mage began to wander off, Clyde followed, still uncertain what he was doing here. Picking a door? Thelma's words still did not make sense. What use of a door did he have? “If Jenkins says you get a door, you will have one. We have an agreement you see.” Clyde paced along with the infirm nuit, slowly breathing, keeping calm, and waiting for the man to get to whatever point he was making. It seemed with the nuits often having such extended lives, time was less of a factor. While that in some ways was good, meaning they worked on a long term view... It could also mean that they took their time in the short term, in getting to a point. For now Clyde remained calm, but he was unsure how long he could stay so. Luckily, he did not have to wait to terribly long, before the nuit went on. “What door appeals to you Clyde? That matters most, what should your door do? Do you want a slab of wood that opens? Should it have a lock? A Shield? Should your door greet you in the morning or only at night? Answer for yourself not only the mundane questions but the magical. Doors of all stripes can be found here.” Clyde paused for a moment, wondering over his words and questions. Was this some sort of test, he wondered? Was there some deeper meaning to his question? Clyde let out a sigh, thought over it for a chime or so, and then answered as best he could. “I suppose with doors, each has a purpose, depending upon what it leads to... I suppose before I can truly tell you what kind of door I want, I first need to know what I will be using the door for. Perhaps Master Jenkins explained that to you, but she did not to me. But in general, what kind of door appeals to me? I suppose I'd want a strong door, a sturdy one that if need be could keep unwanted people out... As for a lock... Perhaps, though I suppose even locks are not perfect in keeping unwanted people out. But better than not having a lock.” “I don't think I would really want a talking door. What if I did not like what it said? Or if its words were twisted... As for shields... I know a bit of the magic, enough to know I am unsure what I'd want to keep out right now. And not enough to do it myself. Perhaps if nothing else a shield to keep out magic, but... Beyond that, I am unsure.” Clyde paused for a moment, looking at the nuit. “I suppose with what I know now, that is the best I can answer your question.”