Old August 1, 2015, 06:00 PM   #1 (permalink)
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[Medonia] Let's Blame the Human

In the immediate aftermath of this thread.

He had been summoned to the docks where Iseult was keeping court. He was spending a fair amount of money on rebuilding this city as it was and he had completed the task she had set him quite admirably. Most likely she wanted to fawn over his intelligence and cleverness, it was what was to be expected from creatures like her.

So here he was, the alchemist of swords. Properly cleaned after having entered the sewer. It was bad enough he had to wear a human body without it smelling entirely disgusting. So he was clothed appropriately once more, his shirt buttoned up to just below his chin. His jacket displaying the golden ouroboros of the alchemists. His hands covered by black gloves, because if he could avoid looking at the repugnant human skin beneath them he would.

Right. Now where was she? He had other business to take care of, rather than stick around and being congratulated for dealing with the crisis in an admirable fashion.
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Old August 3, 2015, 09:12 AM   #2 (permalink)

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Iseult’s warehouse was easily identifiable from many of the others on the docks, largely because there was more activity present than at others. A couple of men with armbands bearing a green gemstone behind a swathe of ribbon-like blue were in evidence, taking a break it seemed over some dice. They sat outside of an open door that allowed the summer breeze from the sea to waft in, mixing with the dry, excessive heat of the furnace within the dockside building.

Iseult wasn’t terribly hard to find: she was inside, working with a pair of glassblowers, one a dark-haired young woman and the other a tall, brawny man who might have once had a good set of hair except now he was bald and a good portion of one half of his face was fire-scarred. Other individuals were busy setting up a second furnace, scaffolding allowing them access to the ceiling where a hole was being cut to allow the feeding of the furnace’s ventilation system.

The glassblower shifted a look towards the door, movement catching her eye. Iseult’s blue-blonde hair was woven into a long braid down the length of her back and she was casually dressed in a pair of worn brown trousers and a stained white shirt. The look she gave him suggested that she did recognize him, did note his presence. She turned back to her employees, murmuring to them both with a gesture implying they should continue as they had been.

”Serale.” Succinct. The glassblower wiped her hands on a towel that she tossed towards a small table close to the door. It missed, slid to the floor but was summarily dismissed by the glassblower. ”I hear I have you to…thank…for the vines.” It wasn’t a question but she waited for confirmation, one way or the other.
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Old August 6, 2015, 02:15 PM   #3 (permalink)
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The alchemist was as interested in the glassblowing going on as anything else, he dabbled, as it were. Alchemists spread their interests wide and far and there was certainly things alchemy could do with glassblowing.

He dismissed the greeting and the praise with little but a wave of his hand. "Yes," the alchemist said, "but think nothing of it. Civic duty."

The alchemist was not here for the adulation after all, he had better things to do and little time to get on with it. Adrian de Aquinas was not be a very well known figure over here, and honestly he was perfectly fine with keeping out of the spotlight. A little money in the right hands to enable him to construct his own little buildings and things like that, that was all he required. Nothing more than another wealthy do-gooder in a sea of them.

Anonymity suited his agenda just fine.
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Old August 9, 2015, 09:20 AM   #4 (permalink)

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Iseult was quiet as she regarded the other. Civic duty. Apparently he thought she had called him in to sing his praises, inform him what a wonderful job he had done and could he please extend his expertise to other problem areas around the city?

Some people were so deluded.

"It would have been better if you'd destroyed the vines as we'd originally hoped," she noted drily, turning towards a plan she'd sprawled over the paper. She didn't invite him to look at it, as she had no intention of asking him his opinion or suggestions. That was not why he was there. "Now we have unpredictable vines wrapping around our buildings and further bracing themselves into our sewers. I don't imagine I need to detail out how problematic that could become..." She trailed off, looking towards him expectantly, apparently looking for him to fill in the explanation, not to mention the problems.

The biggest problem Iseult saw was that destroying the vines now seemed tantamount to suicide. Anger them and they were likely to constrict themselves around the walls, crumble the buildings, rupture the sewers...even worse than they had already been ruptured. They were, as Iseult saw it, at the mercy of the vines...and she didn't like it.
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Old August 15, 2015, 04:14 PM   #5 (permalink)
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"No," said the alchemist, "It would not."

"We created peace where there was war," his voice remained an even chilly tone, "it is easy to kill things, Iseult Fluersdotter." He picked up one of the glass shears that were lying around. Testing the edge of it lightly. "See this? You jam this into the right artery and the body crumples within minutes. Dead. Living beings are very fragile." he put the tool back down. "It is much harder to create something."

"The vines work for us now, they will support the city in its growth, allowing us to finish in weeks what might otherwise have taken years. In return they will have peace to grow and we both win. An agreeable situation for the both of us. Your arguments are largely immaterial, they are unpredictable only to the extent that your workers and citizens are unpredictable."
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Old August 17, 2015, 10:45 AM   #6 (permalink)

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She was quiet for a short stretch of time, looking at him with an even, bland expression. She had tensed minutely as he picked up the shears and toyed with them. She had only just managed to restrain herself from informing him that he was in no way invited to touch her materials, her tools...anything. It helped that she had something else entirely to focus on: his apparent lack of grasping the problem, exactly.

"I see. That's what you consider them? Peaceful plants working in harmony with the city." She reached out and picked up the diamond shears, striding to firmly put them away so that the man would not be tempted to fiddle with them again. Her things, no touch. The statement was there, if unspoken.

"What I see are views that will work with us until they won't. What exactly are the terms here? You brokered a peace but what was the agreement? What's to prevent them from turning on the city? From ruining it?" She folded her arms across her chest and shifted back so that her hip rested against the table. She posture could have suggested ease were it not for the firm set of her jaw, the stiffness in her limbs, the hard set to her dark eyes as she fixed them on him.
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Old August 24, 2015, 04:50 PM   #7 (permalink)
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"Of course not," the alchemist said, "they are monsters. But now they are our monsters." If he cared anything for her silent rebuke at him for touching her tools he did not show it.

He swept a hand out across the room to indicate the other workers here. "Same as them. You treat them well, they will treat you well. You mistreat them and they will turn on you. The deal was simple, they would help the denizens of this city grow the city and they would be allowed to grow in peace in return. The alternative was we kill them."

"They are not as simple as you think, these vines. They are not some mere rogue plant growing mindlessly. There is an intelligence behind it all and snuffing it out prematurely seems like it would be a crime. Did you ever visit the Pondertree? It would have been a shame if someone were to snuff that when it was a mere sapling, yes?"

"For now they are useful, should they stop being useful, a new deal might be brokered or we fulfil our end of the bargain and we destroy them. Contact the man Mortimer Blythe, he was the one who brokered the deal and they share a certain fondness for him. If a new deal needs to be made, he could prove useful."
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Old August 31, 2015, 12:13 PM   #8 (permalink)

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Iseult lifted a shoulder at his question regarding the Pondertree. She had never visited it, largely because she had never been in the city when it was present. It was well before her time. Of course, having long-lived in Medonia now, and having been a friend to those who made the city their home, she had heard much about it. Rougenoe had spoken of trying to regain the Pondertree, of luring it back to the city. He had been much impressed by the Pondertree, had thought it made all the difference to the city...that somehow the city was different, worse off, without it.

Would he approve of the vines?

Did she care if he would or wouldn't?

"Mortimer Blythe? I see." She eyed the other silently, arms folded, as if trying to discern one way or another how to wind her way through this conversation. That she remained unconvinced was clear. 'Wait and see' did not sit well with her. She was fine with experimentation, exploration, curiosity. She thrived on those things...as a glassblower. Not as a woman who was presently heading the reconstruction of Medonia. Surprises, waiting...she liked neither of those in conjunction with the rebuild.

"You have been so helpful," she remarked blandly, making a small gesture of her hand. It was as akin to dismissal as any. She turned slightly, angling herself back in the direction of the furnaces. "I'm sure the city will be better for it. Your help, of course." Just in case he wasn't capable of following along, of course. "I'm sure you'll let me know if you need anything." She plucked a blowpipe from the rack of tools, twisting it into her hands and settling it horizontal to the floor across her palms.
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Old September 3, 2015, 06:36 PM   #9 (permalink)
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The alchemist bowed. "I remain your servant madam, should you require my assistance, do not hesitate to call on me." If there was a hint of sarcasm to his voice it did not get through the chilly even tone that he always spoke in.

With abrupt efficiency the alchemist turned around and strode out, donning his hat to keep the sun's glare out of his eyes now that he was out of the sweltering confines of the workshop. Heat never bothered the alchemist much. He wore a piece of Jaedaxia's winters in his heart.
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