The Versian City Council

[Nimh]

The Versian City Council was not a building, but was instead an open forum, a courtyard. It was paved with uneven, bumpy gray cobblestones. This was a square space, wide and open, where one could stand and see the blue open Sherian skies.

A rather large circular fountain rested in the exact center of the town square. There were alabaster nereids inside, merfather and mermother and merbabies all gently shooting water from their mouths as they clutched each other and played. The water sparkled, pattered on itself, made rainbows.

Little shops lined the square, little colorful shops. Nestled between two buildings and resting on the second floor was the tiny office of Isa Berkan, the head of the Council, where she lived and worked. Very few knew this, though occasionally they might see blonde Berkan stepping out onto her rickety balcony, to run the monthly council meetings for the scant few who believed that they could rule better than mages could.

Original Description by Kenaz

[Anvael Andares]

Timestamp: Summer of Era XI in the Age of the Darkening
The Third Brightening of Optia

Anvael had read the notice in the central square that spoke about employment opportunities a while ago. He was interested in politics – maybe it was part of his heritage. He had been the aedile of Medonia, but quit the job. Back then he had just been a boy, and ultimately other things – like sneaking around in the graveyard at night and hunting mutant cats or learning to fight – had been more fun than making money and trying to help people. He had matured since then. It had only been an era or two, but such a time could make a world of a difference when one was young. He wanted to try it again ...

He was dressed in his usual black and blue clothes, but he had added a fine cloak with silver fur to it which made him look like a young nobleman rather than a boy who had just stumbled into the City Council by a chance. A dagger was in a sheath at his belt. He wasn’t very proficient in its use yet, but nobody had to know that. He had contemplated taking his dog with him – the poor animal had been stuck inside all brightening long – but then he had decided against it. Jaali, the prefect of Medonia, had taken her poodle everywhere, and he certainly wasn’t her.

Prefect was in his opinion the perfect job for him. Being an aedile had been just a bit boring, prefect sounded more interesting. Fun was still important where a potential job was concerned, but doing something useful was even more important. He had read the Annarian Code, he had the right genes for politics, he had even worked for the government, so he was the perfect person for the job. The only problem was: Where did he have to go to apply? The City Council had turned out to be an open forum rather than a building which posed something of a problem. Where was the head of the council hiding?

[Nimh]

The city council forum was relatively busy, not particularly with people who had business to attend to in the location, but with those who were passing through or even trimming up the small patches of flowers that dappled the area. Few paid much attention to the finely dressed young esh'lahier standing rather perplexed within the forum. That is, few. One particular gentlemen with a pair of hedge-trimming scissors in his hands had noticed Anvael's confusion as he strode idly around the forum, his eyes searching for...something.

Slapping the scissors shut and hooking them on a loop of a large belt around his waist, old Grit Kinnaird set aside his gardening for a few moments and approached the Esh'lahier. At three foot two with curly gray hair and large, almond-shaped, amber eyes, Grit looked every inch a cether. He was bare foot, his hairy, large feet a part of his body that usually drew attention rather quickly. He wore brown trousers from which parts of his dirt-smeared white shirt poked here and there. Red suspenders anchored his voluminous pants to his body. "Serale! Serale! What can ah do fer ya? Ye'r lookin' rather lost der, if ah do say sah." His heavily wrinkled face crinkled even more as his mouth broadened into a wide, open smile.

[Anvael Andares]

Yes, studying the law and hunting criminals would definitely be exciting, the young dark elf decided. Besides, it would help him find out how to avoid conflicts with the authorities when he was going on adventures. Somehow the guards had problems with nightly activities at the graveyard. He had never been able to find out why. Were the afraid that everybody who entered a graveyard at night was a Jorelite – or worse – a vampire? Anvael had never seen a vampire, but he very much doubted that they exhibited such stereotypical behaviour. At least he would not do that if he were a vampire. He would just go to taverns, sing, dance and then suck other people’s blood somewhere in the backroom – and dress in very bright and cheerful colors. He would also use arcana to make his victims willing.

If he had arcana now, he would use it to locate the head of the council. Ikos seemed to be a very easy way to find people. Just draw a rune and wish that the person you want to talk to comes your way. But unfortunately he was just beginning his studies which meant that he would just have to continue his search – without knowing what the person looked like. He stopped in his tracks as the cether adressed him and stared at the cissors. He had never seen a person run around with scissors … unless he was a tailor or a madman who used scissors to stab other people …

“Serale, Master Cether …” the young esh’lahier answered politely. His voice betrayed nothing of the rather childish thoughts he had been thinking before. It was best not to people know that vampires and hunting murderers fascinated him – just like it fascinated about every other boy. “I’m looking for the head of the City Council. I want to talk to him or her about a job …”

[Nimh]

The cether was completely oblivious that the young man in front of him was having any odd thoughts about the gardener. After all, he thought himself to appear friendly and easy to talk to, thinking nothing of the rather large pair of "scissors" hanging from his tool belt. They were just to trim hedges, after all. Would would ever think of using such a tool to run around stabbing people? How odd...

Smiling at the young man's plans, he nodded and gestured on towards the building that shadowed the forum. "The Council-woman can be found in tha' there building o'er there." The building he pointed out was nestled between two larger, brightly shaded structures. The City Council building was more subdued in appearance, painted a soft, less blaring blue than most of the other houses and shops scattered throughout the town. "I think 'er office can be found on th' top floor, but dun't go quotin' me on that one." He bobbed his head up and down, swiped at some sweat beading at his forehead. "But tha's good. Gettin' a job, I mean. Can't go through life doin' nothin', y'know? Tha's good, that's good," he repeated, his voice lowering into a quite murmur, a murmur he dispersed by clearing his throat. "Anyway, good luck gettin' yer job there, boy. Good luck!" His gloved hand lifted, waved, and he was soon off, taking the clippers from his belt, snipping them in the air as he moved towards a bush in need of a trim.

[Anvael Andares]

„This one?“ the Esh’lahier asked and pointed at the blue building. The color irritated the young man a bit. He had grown up in Ieffreon where everything was made of white marble. Blue houses just looked … weird, as if they had been painted by somebody who was colorblind. “Top floor?” He looked at the cether questioningly. “Alright. Thank you, Master Cether. I agree that getting a job is good. Without one life tends to be boring, besides you need money to buy food and drinks and clothes …”

He was tempted to ask the cether what his job was – stabbing people with his cissors for money? – but then he decided not to ask. The man might be embarrassed – or just lie to him. “Good luck with your job as well, Master Cether!” he said and moved towards the City Council building. As he turned around, he saw the cether move towards a bush – and sighed. So much for a cether who ran around stabbing people with his scissors. He would have to find another criminal to spy on. It had been stupid to assume that a murderer would be outside in bright daylight with his weapon of choice anyway.

[Nimh]

Leaving the cether behind without raising the alarm of a possible serial killer turned out to be all right and while Anvael may have been disappointed that there was no reason to have the poor gardener hauled off to gaol, there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that the cether would have been relieved to find out that he had been "exonerated".

Well, with the cether behind him, Anvael was free to approach the building that had been pointed out to him. It was well-kept, the paint still a bright cerulean gemstone amid other brightly colored jewels. Here, everyone seemed to strive to have their own individual buildings stand out. Of course, with every house, store, and government complex one bright shade after another, they merely blended on a canvas that only served to hurt the eyes after a time. The entranceway, two arching wooden doors that had been propped open, lead into a decently sized main hallway. The floor was noticeably stone that had been worn and polished from thousands of feet trekking in and out of the government structure over the course of a great many brightenings. Just beyond the doorway, a staircase made primarily of darkly colored wood and adorned with a dark blue carpet curved its way from the first floor to the second floor. The interior of the main floor itself had been painted a pale yellow and accented in places with the same dark blue that adorned the carpet. Fine paintings of thanes and other high-ranking council members decorated the walls down the length of the hallway. There was no lack for plants or statues either.

[Anvael Andares]

Could a prefect or a thane force the citizens to paint their houses in a different colour? The young Esh'lahier was seriously thinking about that as he made his way towards the council building. Bright colours were nice, but when you had red, blue and green houses next to each other, it became painful to the eyes after a while. They should at least have done a bit of coordination so that houses of the same colour were next to each other. As it was, Vers just looked like the work of a bad artist. Apparently mages - and Vers was a city of mages - had no sense of colour and little artistic ability. If he had any say in this matter, Vers would turn into a city of white marble buildings and palm trees.

He rubbed his hurting eyes a bit as he made his way into the council building. The fact that he did not have to look at the brightly coloured houses anymore was a great relief. He stood there, in the entrance room, for a moment and took a look around. Where was he supposed to go? Where was this head of the council? He noticed the stairs and approached them. It seemed as if this was the right way.

While the outside of the building had been a bit too blue for his taste, the inside actually looked rather nice. The combination of dark wood, blue carpet, pale yellow walls, old paintings and plants was actually rather pleasant. The person who had decorated the inside of the council building had good taste. With that thought in mind he made his way up the stairs, hoping that the office of the person he was looking for would be easy to find.

[Nimh]

At the top of the stairs, a short corridor led in only one direction for the time being: straight ahead. At the end of the corridor was stationed a desk of dark mahogany, behind which sat an aging woman with gray hair propped atop her head in her a bun. She was scanning over a small pile of papers, the tip of the feather on her quill brushing over each paper she glanced over. Behind the secretary a pair of heavy oak doors barricaded entry to what must have been an office. The corridor continued to both the left and the right and if Anvael bothered to look down either hallway, he would notice that there was another secretary placed in front of double doors at either end. All were bent over their own sets of papers.

As Anvael reached the very top of the stairs, the first secretary that the esh'lahier would come in contact with, lifted her head and blinked in some astonishment to find someone coming towards her. Or maybe it had just been a while since she had last looked up from her papers and had to adjust her eyesight. EIther way, she squinted down the corridor, her nose wrinkling slightly, before a small, business-like smile propped itself on her face. "Serale, sir," she called over to him as he drew closer to the desk. "is there anything I can get for you?" There was a rather homely, mother-like quality to the woman, as if she was always the first in a crowd to start pinching cheeks and gushing over how adorable a child was - even if the kid was the ugliest, brattiest thing on the face of Telath. She adjusted the spectacles that had slid down the length of her nose, pushing them to sit correctly on the arch. "Are you here to see the Councilwoman? Or perhaps the thane...?" she trailed off, leaving it open to interpretation, her head canting to the side slightly. That smile remained fixated on her face the entire time.