“Adventurer Manifesto”
~Column by Lana Bright
Sometime ago I revealed my newest expose into the world of the many Sigil adventurers by adopting the profession for myself, and living and fighting beside these people. Readers, I wish that I could say adventuring is a magical, thrilling life filled with wonder. I wish I could describe the rush of facing death, and the sweetness of breath when you still live after defeating all the odds. Unfortunately, I canÂ’t because these things are a sign of madness that I donÂ’t share.
I earlier touched upon adventurers lacking a sort of discretion on the battlefield and how they would often stop and converse with strangers met in dangerous environs, and even welcome these strangers into their company. This is a habit that has persisted throughout my observations, and even more oddly, said strangers react with confusion if you reject their company. “But I mean you no harm,” they say, as they clutch to their weapons, cast in darkness, often hooded and masked. “How did you come to trust those you’re with?” They ask, as if entire parties were composed of strangers that came together for the first time while battling through hordes bent on their death.
Their lack of respect for social normalcy is astounding, even extending so far as one adventurer observing, “He’s clearly not a monster. He’s talking to us.” Readers, you and I may understand the sheer ignorance of these comments and behaviors, but I’m afraid that adventurers don’t. A simple declaration of cooperation, thrown out amid battle cries, is enough for them to trust a stranger with their lives. The concept of meeting people in a safe and trustworthy environment, fostering trust, and then adventuring together isn’t standard practice, or even a favored secondary route to companionship. These people start and build their relationship by blade and blood. Why? Because they speak, and evidently if a thing speaks it cannot possibly be a manipulator, schemer, or plotter aimed to do harm.
This reporter maintains that a man clad in black hood and cloak, stalking the caverns of the Elemental Plane of Earth, poses more threat than the mindless umberhulks and mad cultists. Compare it to dating, if you will. Do you meet your potential partner in a safe and public location while you initially learn and measure one another, or do you immediately invite your date into your bedchamber for sex regardless of the myriad inherent risks? What the adventurers do equates to the latter.
I wish that I could say that adventuring is the death of fear and the birth of courage and excitement. However, that would be a grossly stilted understatement. Adventuring isn’t the death of fear; it’s the death of sense. These people have thrown caution and common sense to the wind, and live a whirlwind of violence and chaos. Keep in mind that adventurers make a living from invading the native environs of other species and peoples, wantonly slaughtering them, and taking whatever spoils they may in hopes of stumbling across one treasure that justifies the inconvenience of portal hopping and fighting through the masses. Invaders, marauders, mass murderers – these terms are synonymous with what the adventurers actually do. They’re a reckless bunch with nothing in mind save their present whim. It doesn’t take a great leap of logic to understand why so many female adventures are lesbians, or to recognize the adventurers’ sexual promiscuity. Nor must one wonder long at how so many of them found periphery businesses that provide actual services. Adventurers simply do whatever they feel like without any real, logically sound, reasoning.
To any protesting adventurer reading this I pose the following question: Why didnÂ’t you buy a house and retire after your very first plunder?
Readers, itÂ’s important to understand that IÂ’m not criticizing the adventurers, but explaining them. As you know, IÂ’ve been working at becoming one myself and in that pursuit IÂ’m now guilty of many of the deeds that IÂ’ve described. IÂ’ve killed, IÂ’ve looted, IÂ’ve spent enough money to support scores of Hive families on just a single article of equipment. But IÂ’m also a richer ad stronger person than IÂ’ve ever been, and so I confidently assert that I truly understand the draw of this lifestyle, the need to abandon thought in trade for personal security, and the liberation of knowing that youÂ’ve faced death and survived.
The one thing I havenÂ’t adopted is the fearlessness. IÂ’m still terrified of the danger, of being hurt, of dying. Of all the enemies IÂ’ve now faced, the fright is the worst and I truly doubt IÂ’ll ever conquer it.
In fact, itÂ’s my sincere hope that I never do.
Lana Bright's Gossip Column
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*A. Thereal
- Posts: 95
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
“Nero Urbane: Adventurers”
~Column by Lana Bright
As many of my readers know, sometime ago I began interviewing a clueless eladrin named Nero Urbane. ItÂ’s been quite a while since Mr. Urbane and I have spoken, and I thought it would be interesting to glean his perspective on my new endeavor into adventuring. Today weÂ’ll hear what this adventurer, detective, cheese monger has to say about the lifestyle.
Lana Bright: Greeting, Nero. ItÂ’s been some time since last we spoke.
Nero Urbane: Too long, Lana. IÂ’m glad to see that you look well.
LB: Thanks you. [Slight pause.] Nero, I would like your take on adventurers and adventuring. But first I would to ask: Are you an adventurer?
NU: Of course I am and I have been for about two years.
LB: I realize the question might seem odd, but I ask because so many of the adventurers here assert that theyÂ’re not adventurers. I was curious if you were among them.
NU: I know the trend youÂ’re talking about, but I donÂ’t partake. I think what my fellow adventurers forget is that no one is defined by a single occupation. As you know IÂ’m a detective and cheese monger, and my adventuring doesnÂ’t preclude those roles in any way. The others who claim to be hunters, merchants, scholars, etcetera probably believe that if they admit to being an adventurer, then they cannot also be whatever they view themselves as. But the fact of the matter is every single one of us has risen to power through adventuring.
LB: Yes, IÂ’ve noticed that you all possess a collection of endearing and frustrating qualities, among which is the complete lack of sense and fear. How can you explain that?
NU: I donÂ’t know if I would go so far as to say we have a lack of sense. Many adventurers are quite intelligent, others arenÂ’t. But all share in a general confidence of ability. IÂ’ve been following your column and youÂ’ve been focusing on our habit of conversing with strangers while on the battlefield. To that I ask: Why wouldnÂ’t we? We donÂ’t feel endangered by the stranger, and certainly not by the battlefield itself or we wouldnÂ’t be there. We know that should the worst happen, our abilities will see us through and whether or not our confidence is unfounded never enters the equation.
LB: Which could be a lack of sense in and of itself, Nero. [Chuckle.] But what about the fearlessness?
NU: That’s a very inappropriate term. I would say adventurers are courageous, and whether or not that courage is born of confidence or stupidity is debatable. But very few of us are actually fearless – take myself, for example. One of the advantages of being celestial is that fear - particularly fear of a magical nature - slips around my me without purchase. I'm immune. The other adventurers of whom we speak instead suffer the fear I can't acknowledge, and will themselves forward in spite of it. I think it’s an important distinction, because while fearlessness is without a doubt more reliable, courage is far more noble.
LB: I can understand why you draw the comparison. Another oddity is the adventurersÂ’ indifference when entering somethingÂ’s home and killing it. How can you explain that?
NU: I canÂ’t. I could tackle that obstacle from a million different angles and fail every time. IÂ’m guilty of it myself and canÂ’t even tell you why I think itÂ’s justified. We do it without giving it very much thought.
LB: Which leads me to my next question. Why did you become an adventurer?
NU: I fell into it. I was involved in a burglary case in which a Sharn watchwoman was assaulted. She was from a poor family and was looking at a termination for allowing the theft to happen, so I took to the investigation to clear her name. Meanwhile the stolen article’s owner contracted the Clam Crisis Unit – note, that’s Clam, not Calm – and through circumstances we ended up working together and things spiraled out of control from there. The situation never afforded me an opportunity to part ways with them, and so I became an adventurer and have been doing it ever since.
LB: I canÂ’t help but note a fond tone, Nero. Do you like adventurers?
NU: I do, for the most part. TheyÂ’re the people most likely to share my views, since we all suffer a specific form of socio- and psychopathy. My closest friends and allies are adventurers, and so are my most vocal opponents. My only real issue with our kind is the disappointment that arises when someone isnÂ’t who or what you thought they were. We form a special kind of trust, one that is probably unhealthy, but itÂ’s natural when you fight and bleed beside others. It hurts very deeply when that trust is betrayed.
LB: Have you suffered that sort of betrayal?
NU: I have, Lana. But thatÂ’s a topic for another interview, I think.
LB: I understand. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me again, Nero. Hopefully we can continue as we were, and not wait so long between meetings.
NU: I would also like that, Lana. Watch the spire.
~Column by Lana Bright
As many of my readers know, sometime ago I began interviewing a clueless eladrin named Nero Urbane. ItÂ’s been quite a while since Mr. Urbane and I have spoken, and I thought it would be interesting to glean his perspective on my new endeavor into adventuring. Today weÂ’ll hear what this adventurer, detective, cheese monger has to say about the lifestyle.
Lana Bright: Greeting, Nero. ItÂ’s been some time since last we spoke.
Nero Urbane: Too long, Lana. IÂ’m glad to see that you look well.
LB: Thanks you. [Slight pause.] Nero, I would like your take on adventurers and adventuring. But first I would to ask: Are you an adventurer?
NU: Of course I am and I have been for about two years.
LB: I realize the question might seem odd, but I ask because so many of the adventurers here assert that theyÂ’re not adventurers. I was curious if you were among them.
NU: I know the trend youÂ’re talking about, but I donÂ’t partake. I think what my fellow adventurers forget is that no one is defined by a single occupation. As you know IÂ’m a detective and cheese monger, and my adventuring doesnÂ’t preclude those roles in any way. The others who claim to be hunters, merchants, scholars, etcetera probably believe that if they admit to being an adventurer, then they cannot also be whatever they view themselves as. But the fact of the matter is every single one of us has risen to power through adventuring.
LB: Yes, IÂ’ve noticed that you all possess a collection of endearing and frustrating qualities, among which is the complete lack of sense and fear. How can you explain that?
NU: I donÂ’t know if I would go so far as to say we have a lack of sense. Many adventurers are quite intelligent, others arenÂ’t. But all share in a general confidence of ability. IÂ’ve been following your column and youÂ’ve been focusing on our habit of conversing with strangers while on the battlefield. To that I ask: Why wouldnÂ’t we? We donÂ’t feel endangered by the stranger, and certainly not by the battlefield itself or we wouldnÂ’t be there. We know that should the worst happen, our abilities will see us through and whether or not our confidence is unfounded never enters the equation.
LB: Which could be a lack of sense in and of itself, Nero. [Chuckle.] But what about the fearlessness?
NU: That’s a very inappropriate term. I would say adventurers are courageous, and whether or not that courage is born of confidence or stupidity is debatable. But very few of us are actually fearless – take myself, for example. One of the advantages of being celestial is that fear - particularly fear of a magical nature - slips around my me without purchase. I'm immune. The other adventurers of whom we speak instead suffer the fear I can't acknowledge, and will themselves forward in spite of it. I think it’s an important distinction, because while fearlessness is without a doubt more reliable, courage is far more noble.
LB: I can understand why you draw the comparison. Another oddity is the adventurersÂ’ indifference when entering somethingÂ’s home and killing it. How can you explain that?
NU: I canÂ’t. I could tackle that obstacle from a million different angles and fail every time. IÂ’m guilty of it myself and canÂ’t even tell you why I think itÂ’s justified. We do it without giving it very much thought.
LB: Which leads me to my next question. Why did you become an adventurer?
NU: I fell into it. I was involved in a burglary case in which a Sharn watchwoman was assaulted. She was from a poor family and was looking at a termination for allowing the theft to happen, so I took to the investigation to clear her name. Meanwhile the stolen article’s owner contracted the Clam Crisis Unit – note, that’s Clam, not Calm – and through circumstances we ended up working together and things spiraled out of control from there. The situation never afforded me an opportunity to part ways with them, and so I became an adventurer and have been doing it ever since.
LB: I canÂ’t help but note a fond tone, Nero. Do you like adventurers?
NU: I do, for the most part. TheyÂ’re the people most likely to share my views, since we all suffer a specific form of socio- and psychopathy. My closest friends and allies are adventurers, and so are my most vocal opponents. My only real issue with our kind is the disappointment that arises when someone isnÂ’t who or what you thought they were. We form a special kind of trust, one that is probably unhealthy, but itÂ’s natural when you fight and bleed beside others. It hurts very deeply when that trust is betrayed.
LB: Have you suffered that sort of betrayal?
NU: I have, Lana. But thatÂ’s a topic for another interview, I think.
LB: I understand. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me again, Nero. Hopefully we can continue as we were, and not wait so long between meetings.
NU: I would also like that, Lana. Watch the spire.
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*A. Thereal
- Posts: 95
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
“Adventurer Crescendo”
~Column by Lana Bright
Some months ago I announced the beginning of my delve into the adventurers' world and my intention to bring the reality of these folks to my readers. After fewer chronicles than I care to admit I found myself whisked away on perhaps the defining experience of my brief adventuring career, and now I write to bring you the conclusion of my journey and my final thoughts on the brave men and woman who live and die under the mantle of Adventurer.
Bitwise Xor encountered me in the Festhall while he professed to another Sensate that only two of the five senses amounted to anything. The other three, he asserted, were just evidence of people's hedonism. Perhaps it would help to explain that Bitwise is a sentient construct and only capable of perceiving sight and sound, and once I realized his limitation I found that I couldn't stop obsessing over his individual reality and how odd we must all seem to him.
Bitwise fascinated me as he described a flower as "A colorful bloom." Those three words were such a tragic simplification of a thing that has come to symbolize everything from from femininity to love. As a Sensate I was compelled to know more of this living construct and discover just how much the rest of us take for granted. And to my great delight, it turned out that he was also an adventurer.
After some lengthy discussion and what felt like hours of asserting that I am not in fact a helpless waif of a girl - but pretty though - Bitwise finally allowed me to join his band. His mission: Access Mechanus and infiltrate a Modron Index that may or may not contain the secrets to his origins. In other words: Almost certain death on a gamble.
BitwiseÂ’s success or failure is irrelevant to the spirit of my story, and I urge my readers not to presume the conclusion based on my survival. The importance solely lay in his willingness to risk the lives, including his own, on the premise that he just might find what heÂ’s looking for. If the significance of that escapes you I want you to imagine that your greatest desire might wait for you at the end of a tunnel infested with deadly traps and vicious creatures, and the only way you can reach it is to join with five others and battle through the obstacles. Ask yourself: Would I risk it?
Would you?
This process is the critical difference between adventurers and the rest of us. You and I confront the question by weighing risk against reward, discussing it with those whose judgement we trust, and finally sacrificing our desire to the altar of good sense, or taking a leap of faith. The adventurer does not. In fact, the adventurer doesnÂ’t even ask the question. So far as IÂ’ve learned their equation resembles the following.
Danger + Resource Expenditure / Potential Reward = Why arenÂ’t we on our way yet?
Of course this is a form of insanity, as IÂ’ve stated in previous columns, but what truly fascinates me is the broader strokes of this malady. Not a single protest was raised when Bitwise explained his plan to his comrades, and no protest was uttered when first blood was drawn, nor was retreat considered when Modrons overwhelmed our position. Reader, I donÂ’t exaggerate when I confess that I spotted more than one smile upon the lips of my fellows. I was terrified, but BitwiseÂ’s band was thrilled to be balanced on the knifeÂ’s edge of life and death. It was as if they were intoxicated on the sweetest wine and couldnÂ’t restrain their joy.
Ultimately thatÂ’s what adventuring amounts to - inebriation. These folks were probably once afraid of death and forced into extraordinary circumstances again and again until they replaced fear with excitement. Just as any of other pleasurable substance, the body comes to crave what itÂ’s been given, and so these men and women grow dependent on their adrenaline. The rush and battle brings clarity and contrast to everything, the body feels stronger and faster, the world is brighter, the air is sweeter. Can they be blamed for wanting to experience that? Are they to be rehabilitated, or swept beneath the carpet of societyÂ’s notice like any other addict?
This reporter doesnÂ’t have the answer.
Instead I urge my readers to look more deeply at the next adventurer they see and determine the quality of the person. Adventurers are among the best and worst of us, and those with kind hearts provide charities unmatched by virtually everyone else. ItÂ’s also true that a cruel adventurer can be the greatest of tyrants, but chastising and condemning these people for their choice of careers is as justified as judging a merchant, officer of the law, or even reporter. Careers donÂ’t make a person, choices do.
In conclusion I would like to leave you with this final thought: Though adventuring might require a tougher mettle possessed by you or I, these people are to be applauded their courage and conviction before theyÂ’re praised or shunned for their personal decisions.
~Column by Lana Bright
Some months ago I announced the beginning of my delve into the adventurers' world and my intention to bring the reality of these folks to my readers. After fewer chronicles than I care to admit I found myself whisked away on perhaps the defining experience of my brief adventuring career, and now I write to bring you the conclusion of my journey and my final thoughts on the brave men and woman who live and die under the mantle of Adventurer.
Bitwise Xor encountered me in the Festhall while he professed to another Sensate that only two of the five senses amounted to anything. The other three, he asserted, were just evidence of people's hedonism. Perhaps it would help to explain that Bitwise is a sentient construct and only capable of perceiving sight and sound, and once I realized his limitation I found that I couldn't stop obsessing over his individual reality and how odd we must all seem to him.
Bitwise fascinated me as he described a flower as "A colorful bloom." Those three words were such a tragic simplification of a thing that has come to symbolize everything from from femininity to love. As a Sensate I was compelled to know more of this living construct and discover just how much the rest of us take for granted. And to my great delight, it turned out that he was also an adventurer.
After some lengthy discussion and what felt like hours of asserting that I am not in fact a helpless waif of a girl - but pretty though - Bitwise finally allowed me to join his band. His mission: Access Mechanus and infiltrate a Modron Index that may or may not contain the secrets to his origins. In other words: Almost certain death on a gamble.
BitwiseÂ’s success or failure is irrelevant to the spirit of my story, and I urge my readers not to presume the conclusion based on my survival. The importance solely lay in his willingness to risk the lives, including his own, on the premise that he just might find what heÂ’s looking for. If the significance of that escapes you I want you to imagine that your greatest desire might wait for you at the end of a tunnel infested with deadly traps and vicious creatures, and the only way you can reach it is to join with five others and battle through the obstacles. Ask yourself: Would I risk it?
Would you?
This process is the critical difference between adventurers and the rest of us. You and I confront the question by weighing risk against reward, discussing it with those whose judgement we trust, and finally sacrificing our desire to the altar of good sense, or taking a leap of faith. The adventurer does not. In fact, the adventurer doesnÂ’t even ask the question. So far as IÂ’ve learned their equation resembles the following.
Danger + Resource Expenditure / Potential Reward = Why arenÂ’t we on our way yet?
Of course this is a form of insanity, as IÂ’ve stated in previous columns, but what truly fascinates me is the broader strokes of this malady. Not a single protest was raised when Bitwise explained his plan to his comrades, and no protest was uttered when first blood was drawn, nor was retreat considered when Modrons overwhelmed our position. Reader, I donÂ’t exaggerate when I confess that I spotted more than one smile upon the lips of my fellows. I was terrified, but BitwiseÂ’s band was thrilled to be balanced on the knifeÂ’s edge of life and death. It was as if they were intoxicated on the sweetest wine and couldnÂ’t restrain their joy.
Ultimately thatÂ’s what adventuring amounts to - inebriation. These folks were probably once afraid of death and forced into extraordinary circumstances again and again until they replaced fear with excitement. Just as any of other pleasurable substance, the body comes to crave what itÂ’s been given, and so these men and women grow dependent on their adrenaline. The rush and battle brings clarity and contrast to everything, the body feels stronger and faster, the world is brighter, the air is sweeter. Can they be blamed for wanting to experience that? Are they to be rehabilitated, or swept beneath the carpet of societyÂ’s notice like any other addict?
This reporter doesnÂ’t have the answer.
Instead I urge my readers to look more deeply at the next adventurer they see and determine the quality of the person. Adventurers are among the best and worst of us, and those with kind hearts provide charities unmatched by virtually everyone else. ItÂ’s also true that a cruel adventurer can be the greatest of tyrants, but chastising and condemning these people for their choice of careers is as justified as judging a merchant, officer of the law, or even reporter. Careers donÂ’t make a person, choices do.
In conclusion I would like to leave you with this final thought: Though adventuring might require a tougher mettle possessed by you or I, these people are to be applauded their courage and conviction before theyÂ’re praised or shunned for their personal decisions.
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*A. Thereal
- Posts: 95
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
“Nero Urbane: When Duty or Cowardice Calls”
~Column by Lana Bright
Sitting over a cup of spiced coffee in Khazeet's with Nero Urbane again is nostalgic in a way reserved for old friends reuniting after decades. It seems so long ago that we held our interviews, when in fact just a few brief months have passed. The eladrin waits without beverage, violet orbs scanning the Great Bazaar and doubtless picking out myriad details that betray the shoppers and vendors in ways that only a detective can see. I recall the first time I saw his disturbing eyes, how I was so preoccupied by their alien violet, but today I'm free of that unease. Instead I only see an exhausted man - or more appropriately, an exhausted ghaele. For though Nero lacks the sunken eyes and unshaven stubble of a trodden human, he's possessed by a somber weariness not unlike an ancient tree weathering a storm.
Lana Bright: It's been some time since we last spoke, Nero. And I think the big question is: Why did you suddenly depart from Sigil?
A moment passes as a thoughtful frown tugs at his full lips and he tears his attention from the shoppers with a hesitation that speaks volumes.
Nero Urbane: I was drawn away by an important investigation, Miss Bright.
Nero hasn't called me Miss Bright since our first interviews, and while I'm certain it was unintended, the formality is harsh to my ears.
LB: Can you tell me anything about that investigation?
NU: I would hardly have invited you to lunch if I didn't intend to share my activities.
He probably thinks that he's adequately masked his impatience, but I know better. I feel abruptly unwelcome in the celestial's company, and find myself hesitant to prompt further him. I wait.
NU: I believe that I once spoke of a feyspire called Shaelas Tiraleth - my home. To put it simply, I went looking for it.
Again he lapses and I struggle not to urge him on while he scans the Bazaar.
NU: Some months ago I received information from a colleague that hinted at the lost city. I was compelled to verify it.
LB: Compelled by your former duty to Shaelas Tiraleth or were you motivated by something else?
NU: Precisely what are you implying?
LB: Only that your departure coincided with burgeoning rumors of your womanizing having escalated to assault.
His gaze hardens a moment before turning away, but I'm driven to press on. For the first time since meeting Nero Urbane I realize that I'm in command of the conversation.
LB: If I correctly recall, those rumors succeeded your scandal with Oerianna Vaas. Meanwhile you had all but declared war on Sigil's most controversial adventuress.
NU: I've yet to hear a point, Miss Bright.
Of course he's arrived at the same conclusion as the rest of us, but his mock ignorance and preoccupation betray something more. The implication concerns him.
LB: Some would say that your departure was too well timed, Nero. Some would say you ran away.
NU: I suppose they would.
Then it dawns on me. His watching the Bazaar and defensive vulnerability aren't symptoms of a new found social insecurity.
LB: How long has it been since you've seen Calliope, Nero?
That catches his attention. Violet orbs pin me in my chair, his brow momentarily tenses, and he replies a bit too sharply.
NU: Too long.
He doesn't expound but regret and loss swirl in his violet orbs, so I decide it's about time to play nice.
LB: Tell me about Shaelas Tiraleth. Did you find it?
NU: As I said, a colleague brought me information regarding its whereabouts so we left to investigate. Together with another former ally we searched the domains of Arborea until we finally confirmed the location of a feyspire.
LB: So you did find your old home?
NU: Unfortunately not. Instead we found another, long forgotten feyspire infested by giants and once again I was forced to abandon my charge.
LB: You didn't liberate it?
NU: How could we? An eladrin, kalashtar, and shifter are no match for a horde of giants. Besides, without the citizenry, feyspires are just architecture. I'm not keen on sacrificing my friends for some floating marble.
LB: For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you didn't find what you were looking for. But I'm happy to welcome you back to Sigil.
NU: Thank you for both, Lana. And as ever I look forward to our next visit.
Saying no more to me, his attention drifts once again toward the Bazaar and I find myself wondering the same question that I'm sure is on his mind: Where is Calliope Rhell?
~Column by Lana Bright
Sitting over a cup of spiced coffee in Khazeet's with Nero Urbane again is nostalgic in a way reserved for old friends reuniting after decades. It seems so long ago that we held our interviews, when in fact just a few brief months have passed. The eladrin waits without beverage, violet orbs scanning the Great Bazaar and doubtless picking out myriad details that betray the shoppers and vendors in ways that only a detective can see. I recall the first time I saw his disturbing eyes, how I was so preoccupied by their alien violet, but today I'm free of that unease. Instead I only see an exhausted man - or more appropriately, an exhausted ghaele. For though Nero lacks the sunken eyes and unshaven stubble of a trodden human, he's possessed by a somber weariness not unlike an ancient tree weathering a storm.
Lana Bright: It's been some time since we last spoke, Nero. And I think the big question is: Why did you suddenly depart from Sigil?
A moment passes as a thoughtful frown tugs at his full lips and he tears his attention from the shoppers with a hesitation that speaks volumes.
Nero Urbane: I was drawn away by an important investigation, Miss Bright.
Nero hasn't called me Miss Bright since our first interviews, and while I'm certain it was unintended, the formality is harsh to my ears.
LB: Can you tell me anything about that investigation?
NU: I would hardly have invited you to lunch if I didn't intend to share my activities.
He probably thinks that he's adequately masked his impatience, but I know better. I feel abruptly unwelcome in the celestial's company, and find myself hesitant to prompt further him. I wait.
NU: I believe that I once spoke of a feyspire called Shaelas Tiraleth - my home. To put it simply, I went looking for it.
Again he lapses and I struggle not to urge him on while he scans the Bazaar.
NU: Some months ago I received information from a colleague that hinted at the lost city. I was compelled to verify it.
LB: Compelled by your former duty to Shaelas Tiraleth or were you motivated by something else?
NU: Precisely what are you implying?
LB: Only that your departure coincided with burgeoning rumors of your womanizing having escalated to assault.
His gaze hardens a moment before turning away, but I'm driven to press on. For the first time since meeting Nero Urbane I realize that I'm in command of the conversation.
LB: If I correctly recall, those rumors succeeded your scandal with Oerianna Vaas. Meanwhile you had all but declared war on Sigil's most controversial adventuress.
NU: I've yet to hear a point, Miss Bright.
Of course he's arrived at the same conclusion as the rest of us, but his mock ignorance and preoccupation betray something more. The implication concerns him.
LB: Some would say that your departure was too well timed, Nero. Some would say you ran away.
NU: I suppose they would.
Then it dawns on me. His watching the Bazaar and defensive vulnerability aren't symptoms of a new found social insecurity.
LB: How long has it been since you've seen Calliope, Nero?
That catches his attention. Violet orbs pin me in my chair, his brow momentarily tenses, and he replies a bit too sharply.
NU: Too long.
He doesn't expound but regret and loss swirl in his violet orbs, so I decide it's about time to play nice.
LB: Tell me about Shaelas Tiraleth. Did you find it?
NU: As I said, a colleague brought me information regarding its whereabouts so we left to investigate. Together with another former ally we searched the domains of Arborea until we finally confirmed the location of a feyspire.
LB: So you did find your old home?
NU: Unfortunately not. Instead we found another, long forgotten feyspire infested by giants and once again I was forced to abandon my charge.
LB: You didn't liberate it?
NU: How could we? An eladrin, kalashtar, and shifter are no match for a horde of giants. Besides, without the citizenry, feyspires are just architecture. I'm not keen on sacrificing my friends for some floating marble.
LB: For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you didn't find what you were looking for. But I'm happy to welcome you back to Sigil.
NU: Thank you for both, Lana. And as ever I look forward to our next visit.
Saying no more to me, his attention drifts once again toward the Bazaar and I find myself wondering the same question that I'm sure is on his mind: Where is Calliope Rhell?
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*A. Thereal
- Posts: 95
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
“It's Not Over Yet!”
~Column by Lana Bright
So the multiverse has turned again, and many of us celebrate the passing of one year and the coming of another. This last one has been tumultuous, rife with drama and fun, bitter rivalries and memorable romances. Now, with its departure, many adventurers around Sigil are often heard lamenting those bygone days, the absence of old friends, the loss of former lovers. Even enemies are sorely missed, if for nothing else than to stave off a new miasma of tedium that blankets over us all.
I recall this last year as one of thrilling highs, new and exotic friends made, secret trysts with lovers now long gone. It was an exciting time, really my breakthrough into the robust life of Sigil, despite my living here my entire life. For a Sensate, thatÂ’s saying a great deal. Delving into the adventuring life was perhaps the most exhilarating and terrifying time IÂ’ve known, and though I didnÂ’t uncover the romance that I hoped to find at its core, I wouldnÂ’t trade those days for anything.
Sadly, though, there were also the bad days. The worst were those that I received threatening letters from readers displeased with one of my correspondents, and when SIGIS itself was targeted with that malice, I worried that the adventurers would rob our fair city of perhaps its greatest independent organization for nothing more than a personal slight. Those were dark days indeed, when I couldnÂ’t sleep for fear that my home would be invaded by one zealous adventurer or another, or perhaps set to flame. Like all other things, that tension passed, and SIGIS has reclaimed its old post in the rear of the peopleÂ’s minds.
So what made this last year so colorful as to inspire great thrills and stark frights? It was the people, of course, and all their myriad extremist ideas being forced onto others while everyone scrambled to climb to the top. At the time we looked at our peers, judged them, perhaps even wished they would just go away and spare us their self-righteous prattle. Now, itÂ’s almost as if we wish them back, if only to hear the familiar opinions spouted as fact, which, invariably sparked lengthy and often amusing discussion as adventurers shouted their positions at each other from across fifty foot distances, and give us a focus for our ire and favor.
Some may say those days are gone, and weÂ’re now facing SigilÂ’s decline into depression. Do we now encounter an exodus of the adventurers that lend our home so much flavor? Perhaps we do, but I urge my readers to remember that itÂ’s not over yet!
Sigil still changes and grows, offering ever new corners to explore. The dabus ceaselessly repair our structures and roads, and we still discover new paths to old destinations every day. And Her Serenity is there, ever vigilant, ever watchful, and she hasnÂ’t ended us yet. Perhaps one day She and her dabus will stop, and Sigil will come to a lurching halt. Perhaps one night will be the last we rest our heads, never to re-awaken in this mystery that we call a city.
But that day isnÂ’t today, and thereÂ’s still so much more to which we can look forward! Another year has gone, and I, for one, celebrate the next to come. LetÂ’s make it as grand as the last!
~Column by Lana Bright
So the multiverse has turned again, and many of us celebrate the passing of one year and the coming of another. This last one has been tumultuous, rife with drama and fun, bitter rivalries and memorable romances. Now, with its departure, many adventurers around Sigil are often heard lamenting those bygone days, the absence of old friends, the loss of former lovers. Even enemies are sorely missed, if for nothing else than to stave off a new miasma of tedium that blankets over us all.
I recall this last year as one of thrilling highs, new and exotic friends made, secret trysts with lovers now long gone. It was an exciting time, really my breakthrough into the robust life of Sigil, despite my living here my entire life. For a Sensate, thatÂ’s saying a great deal. Delving into the adventuring life was perhaps the most exhilarating and terrifying time IÂ’ve known, and though I didnÂ’t uncover the romance that I hoped to find at its core, I wouldnÂ’t trade those days for anything.
Sadly, though, there were also the bad days. The worst were those that I received threatening letters from readers displeased with one of my correspondents, and when SIGIS itself was targeted with that malice, I worried that the adventurers would rob our fair city of perhaps its greatest independent organization for nothing more than a personal slight. Those were dark days indeed, when I couldnÂ’t sleep for fear that my home would be invaded by one zealous adventurer or another, or perhaps set to flame. Like all other things, that tension passed, and SIGIS has reclaimed its old post in the rear of the peopleÂ’s minds.
So what made this last year so colorful as to inspire great thrills and stark frights? It was the people, of course, and all their myriad extremist ideas being forced onto others while everyone scrambled to climb to the top. At the time we looked at our peers, judged them, perhaps even wished they would just go away and spare us their self-righteous prattle. Now, itÂ’s almost as if we wish them back, if only to hear the familiar opinions spouted as fact, which, invariably sparked lengthy and often amusing discussion as adventurers shouted their positions at each other from across fifty foot distances, and give us a focus for our ire and favor.
Some may say those days are gone, and weÂ’re now facing SigilÂ’s decline into depression. Do we now encounter an exodus of the adventurers that lend our home so much flavor? Perhaps we do, but I urge my readers to remember that itÂ’s not over yet!
Sigil still changes and grows, offering ever new corners to explore. The dabus ceaselessly repair our structures and roads, and we still discover new paths to old destinations every day. And Her Serenity is there, ever vigilant, ever watchful, and she hasnÂ’t ended us yet. Perhaps one day She and her dabus will stop, and Sigil will come to a lurching halt. Perhaps one night will be the last we rest our heads, never to re-awaken in this mystery that we call a city.
But that day isnÂ’t today, and thereÂ’s still so much more to which we can look forward! Another year has gone, and I, for one, celebrate the next to come. LetÂ’s make it as grand as the last!
-
*A. Thereal
- Posts: 95
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
“Obituary: Nero Urbane”
Last week Sigil saw the passing of a man that I personally made famous, but itÂ’s not until today that I pull myself from grief long enough to put this to print. Nero Urbane, detective and champion for the poor, cheese monger, and playboy has passed away. His death was an anticlimactic and unworthy end for a man who devoted his life to helping the needy without ever taking a single coin for himself. The only sparkle in this dark tragedy is that Nyrralah, the woman with whom Nero had grown closest during his months in Sigil, was with him during his last moments.
Scandal has followed in NeroÂ’s wake, with rumor and controversy surrounding the investigation and smearing NeroÂ’s reputation further, even after his demise. This reporter has confirmed that immediately following NeroÂ’s death one Factotum Green of the Fraternity of Order directly instructed all involved officers to conceal NeroÂ’s fate and report that he had merely gone missing.
When questioned, the Factotum replied, “It was not my preference to deceive Nero’s mourners, but for the sake of good relations I chose to acquiesce to the Sign of One’s request to do just that.” At the Hall of Speakers one Factor i was quoted, “I know the representative who made the request to Factotum Green, and while it was not a sanctioned petition, I fully endorse it in retrospect.” She also went on to assert that she would not in good conscious reveal the identity of the Signer who made the request.
In the days since NeroÂ’s death a small team of women has assembled and assigned it to themselves to unravel the mystery of the eladrinÂ’s passing. Their efforts in tandem with Factotum GreenÂ’s have indicated that Nero was murdered via contact with a deadly poison, yet none of these women, nor the Factotum will divulge the poisonÂ’s origin, or any hint of the murderer. Though it has been confirmed at this time that death-defying magics have proven ineffective to return Nero. However, the team is led by the dauntless Nyrralah herself and still pushes onward in determination to solve this dark mystery.
Meanwhile, Nero is survived by a legacy of serving justice for those whom justice typically ignores, and one ongoing cheese manufacturing operation. Dwayne, the current executive of Galore Cheeses Ltd, was quick to lament their former employer’s death, and said, “Nero was a good man who didn’t judge us for being a swarm of rats - a rare thing even in Sigil. We’ll miss him and aim for Galore Cheese’s success in his honor.” The lim lim cornerstone of Nero’s former cheese dairy were less composed, to Dwayne’s irritation.
So we now must wish our fondest to Nero on his latest journey, wherever he has passed. We knew him as brash, impulsive, arrogant, and righteous - but so too did we know him as a figure who stood for goodness, for no sake other than goodness.
~Lana Bright
Last week Sigil saw the passing of a man that I personally made famous, but itÂ’s not until today that I pull myself from grief long enough to put this to print. Nero Urbane, detective and champion for the poor, cheese monger, and playboy has passed away. His death was an anticlimactic and unworthy end for a man who devoted his life to helping the needy without ever taking a single coin for himself. The only sparkle in this dark tragedy is that Nyrralah, the woman with whom Nero had grown closest during his months in Sigil, was with him during his last moments.
Scandal has followed in NeroÂ’s wake, with rumor and controversy surrounding the investigation and smearing NeroÂ’s reputation further, even after his demise. This reporter has confirmed that immediately following NeroÂ’s death one Factotum Green of the Fraternity of Order directly instructed all involved officers to conceal NeroÂ’s fate and report that he had merely gone missing.
When questioned, the Factotum replied, “It was not my preference to deceive Nero’s mourners, but for the sake of good relations I chose to acquiesce to the Sign of One’s request to do just that.” At the Hall of Speakers one Factor i was quoted, “I know the representative who made the request to Factotum Green, and while it was not a sanctioned petition, I fully endorse it in retrospect.” She also went on to assert that she would not in good conscious reveal the identity of the Signer who made the request.
In the days since NeroÂ’s death a small team of women has assembled and assigned it to themselves to unravel the mystery of the eladrinÂ’s passing. Their efforts in tandem with Factotum GreenÂ’s have indicated that Nero was murdered via contact with a deadly poison, yet none of these women, nor the Factotum will divulge the poisonÂ’s origin, or any hint of the murderer. Though it has been confirmed at this time that death-defying magics have proven ineffective to return Nero. However, the team is led by the dauntless Nyrralah herself and still pushes onward in determination to solve this dark mystery.
Meanwhile, Nero is survived by a legacy of serving justice for those whom justice typically ignores, and one ongoing cheese manufacturing operation. Dwayne, the current executive of Galore Cheeses Ltd, was quick to lament their former employer’s death, and said, “Nero was a good man who didn’t judge us for being a swarm of rats - a rare thing even in Sigil. We’ll miss him and aim for Galore Cheese’s success in his honor.” The lim lim cornerstone of Nero’s former cheese dairy were less composed, to Dwayne’s irritation.
So we now must wish our fondest to Nero on his latest journey, wherever he has passed. We knew him as brash, impulsive, arrogant, and righteous - but so too did we know him as a figure who stood for goodness, for no sake other than goodness.
~Lana Bright
-
*A. Thereal
- Posts: 95
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"A Breath of Fresh Air in the Old Clinic"
~Column by Lana Bright
Dear readers, once again I've taken it upon myself to uncover the unknown story of the countless adventurers that grace our fair city. But we're taking a break from my usual, and instead sitting with one May'thrae, the newest proprietress of the Weary Spirit Clinic in the Hive.
I had first learned of her from Nero Urbane, the usual focus of my work, and was so inspired by the news of someone taking up Abigail WintersÂ’s torch that I braved the streets of the Hive to seek out this new healer. She sits across from me, and no matter the skill of my imagery, I could not do this woman justice. Clearly drow, as indicated by her snowy hair and silken smooth dark skin, but believe me, dear readers, when I say that she is quite simply the most beautiful thing IÂ’ve ever seen.
But I didnÂ’t come to gawk, and so I pick my jaw up from the floor and ask the questions IÂ’ve come to ask.
Lana Bright: Lady's grace, May'thrae. May I call you May?
MayÂ’thrae: Yes, please go ahead.
Her voice is sweetly melodious, like honey dripping down the strings of a harp. She sounds every bit as beautiful as she looks.
LB: Thank you. And thank you again for taking time out of your busy schedule to speak with me. I imagine the clinic is in full swing again after being mostly abandoned for so long. Tell me, how did you come to inherit the charge of Abigail Winters?
For those readers who arenÂ’t familiar with Lady Winters, she was a devoted Healer of Ilmater and a native of Toril. Healer shouldnÂ’t be confused for a simple profession in this case, as the Ilmateri Healers are in fact a special caste within the faith, so dedicated to their rolls that they forswear violence, wealth, and carnal pleasure.
MT: Well. When I first came to Sigil, people were rather surprised by my profession, treating healers as if they are a rarity. You could say that I just was slowly pulled here by the residents.
LB: So you're a healer, but Sigil's hardly short on those who wield the forces of life and death. What makes you so unique among them?
MT: I couldn't say. Perhaps it is my non-association with the Factions, or that I help anyone who requires a healerÂ’s touch. Perhaps it was just fate at work. I mean it could be a multitude of factors... The Ghaele who was watching over this place sees something in me. Perhaps potential? Or Nostalgia? Who knows? But! I've made the Weary Spirit my home and I'm taking care of it. Helping those who come through those very doors. Food, counseling, treatment.
Naturally the ghaele she means is Nero Urbane, the subject of my running column and the man who first revealed to me that the clinic was up and running again. And now that IÂ’ve seen MayÂ’thrae, IÂ’m not at all surprised that the infamous womanizer mentioned her.
LB: Some of the things you promise are the very same tenants that Abigail Winters, the last proprietress, followed. But her disappearance long predates your arrival. Is it coincidence then, or have you perhaps met Lady Winters?
MT: I think it's just simply coincidence... I never knew Lady Winters but I have been told her story. Lady Winters seems like such a wonderful person and I can only hope to carry the image of this clinic in a good light.
LB: Of course she was close with the ghaele you mentioned. Nero Urbane, I presume? Are you familiar with the nature of their relationship?
ItÂ’s a fair question, and even though I already know the Abigail Winters was renowned for her unbreakable chastity, I hope to illicit a response from the young drow.
MT: Oh, I, um... do not dwell on the privacy between two individuals. I am lead to understand that they were close friends and I simply leave it at that. Nero is a kind man, a bit silly sometimes, but with good intentions.
She only barely just evades my trap, and awkwardly at that. But her charm is undeniable and I find myself liking her all the more for it. And with her off guard, maybe I can get something else even better out of her.
LB: Then what of your own relationship with the man? Let's face it, you're drop dead gorgeous and Nero has earned his reputation. Don't you have something juicy to share with my readers?
MT: Juicy? Um... our relationship is simply professional. It would be kind of silly, wouldn't it? A celestial pairing with a drow. The multiverse just may explode.
Oh, the poor naive thing. While I canÂ’t conjecture what her own romantic future will hold, her cluelessness is made starkly apparent by her preconceptions of inter-species love and sex. And I havenÂ’t missed that she has disappointed my query.
LB: Stranger things have happened. But I won't pry into your girl business. As I look around I see the clinic clean and welcoming. You've obviously been hard at work. Will you please describe exactly what you do here?
MT: Well. From what I was told, the old clinic worked off donations. I however, do tend to go out on adventurers for some field work, if you could call it that. So I bring in fresh food and supplies for the house. This could be anything from surgical equipment to lets say... pillows. It just really depends what kind of sales are going on in the Bazaar that day. I cook and prepare the meals for the day at least twice, to ensure those who come here receive fresh food. Now, I do have some helpers so I'm not alone.
So her enterprize is almost exactly like AbigailÂ’s. Lady Winters was also proud of the clinicÂ’s self sufficiency and how it relied only upon volunteers and donations. Like MayÂ’thrae, she would join with adventurers during their journeys, often asking for nothing in recompense for her healing aid aside from the aforementioned donations. MayÂ’thrae may be young and clueless, but sheÂ’s certainly not stupid, and itÂ’s remarkable how quickly she has pulled together such a delicate arrangement.
LB: Your helpers were my next question. Abigail had no shortage of volunteers, both of her faith and of the adventurers. Have any of the old faces returned to lend you their assistance?
MT: Well, we obviously have Nero. We also have a woman named Kala. Both are old faces. There is also another woman named ... umÂ…. Nyrralah? I believe? We also can't forget Khari, who makes sure things go smooth.
LB: What about Amyldra, Abigail's former right hand? Surely she's returned to assist her fellow drowess?
MT: Oh, I've heard of her. But I have yet to see her. One must understand that nothing is forever. Some of those who once dwelled here have moved on, or have found a plane as a home or have developed families.
LB: Oh, I completely understand, but I have to ask these things. So who's the pretty young blonde brooding to my left?
I met her when I arrived to find she and MayÂ’thrae conversing in the street just outside the clinic. SheÂ’s young and human, blonde and pretty, but she declined to participate in the interview and instead has observed from aside. Oh, and sheÂ’s frowning at my mention of her.
MT: That is Khari, she is my guardian. I am rather comfortable with the way I look and I like to wear exotic outfits... Clothing would be a big third in my list of things I like. Tending to people being my first.
Exotic clothing indeed. MayÂ’thrae is lavishly wrapped in white silks and velvets that cling to her curves and sport just the right amount of skin. SheÂ’s the polar opposite of her predecessor who habitually wore baggy robes and a hood to conceal her femininity. The drowess seems intent on flaunting hers.
MT: So she was hired to look after me and to provide guidance.
LB: By yourself or by another?
MT: It was a group effort. Nero and I had a long debate over the matter, then he spoke to her. Then she spoke to me, then I decided.
LB: Fair enough. One last thing, May, and then I'll leave you to your work. It's true that our Hive readership is dismally small. But is there anything you would like to say to the people here, or to Sigil as a whole? Is there a message you would like to send to the hurt, hungry and needy?
MT: The Weary Spirit remains non-affiliated and a free house of healing. If you are hurt. If you are hungry or if you need assistance. We are here and we will try to help.
LB: Now that's a message worth delivering. Thank you, May. And thank you, Khari. I hope that this column brings you more donations, support, and sick to heal. Lady's grace, May.
MT: Ladies Grace to you as well.
I leave the pair alone to their clinic and work, and I canÂ’t help but smile despite the filth that clogs the street before me. Our fair city has seen its due in monsters and tyrants, self appointed kings and self aggrandized thugs, weÂ’ve seen the pitiless and the arrogant, the depraved and the cruel. But for all those who would clad themselves in blackness and sin, there are still a few that want for nothing more than to help those who exist beneath our feet. And I believe that MayÂ’thrae is one of them.
~Column by Lana Bright
Dear readers, once again I've taken it upon myself to uncover the unknown story of the countless adventurers that grace our fair city. But we're taking a break from my usual, and instead sitting with one May'thrae, the newest proprietress of the Weary Spirit Clinic in the Hive.
I had first learned of her from Nero Urbane, the usual focus of my work, and was so inspired by the news of someone taking up Abigail WintersÂ’s torch that I braved the streets of the Hive to seek out this new healer. She sits across from me, and no matter the skill of my imagery, I could not do this woman justice. Clearly drow, as indicated by her snowy hair and silken smooth dark skin, but believe me, dear readers, when I say that she is quite simply the most beautiful thing IÂ’ve ever seen.
But I didnÂ’t come to gawk, and so I pick my jaw up from the floor and ask the questions IÂ’ve come to ask.
Lana Bright: Lady's grace, May'thrae. May I call you May?
MayÂ’thrae: Yes, please go ahead.
Her voice is sweetly melodious, like honey dripping down the strings of a harp. She sounds every bit as beautiful as she looks.
LB: Thank you. And thank you again for taking time out of your busy schedule to speak with me. I imagine the clinic is in full swing again after being mostly abandoned for so long. Tell me, how did you come to inherit the charge of Abigail Winters?
For those readers who arenÂ’t familiar with Lady Winters, she was a devoted Healer of Ilmater and a native of Toril. Healer shouldnÂ’t be confused for a simple profession in this case, as the Ilmateri Healers are in fact a special caste within the faith, so dedicated to their rolls that they forswear violence, wealth, and carnal pleasure.
MT: Well. When I first came to Sigil, people were rather surprised by my profession, treating healers as if they are a rarity. You could say that I just was slowly pulled here by the residents.
LB: So you're a healer, but Sigil's hardly short on those who wield the forces of life and death. What makes you so unique among them?
MT: I couldn't say. Perhaps it is my non-association with the Factions, or that I help anyone who requires a healerÂ’s touch. Perhaps it was just fate at work. I mean it could be a multitude of factors... The Ghaele who was watching over this place sees something in me. Perhaps potential? Or Nostalgia? Who knows? But! I've made the Weary Spirit my home and I'm taking care of it. Helping those who come through those very doors. Food, counseling, treatment.
Naturally the ghaele she means is Nero Urbane, the subject of my running column and the man who first revealed to me that the clinic was up and running again. And now that IÂ’ve seen MayÂ’thrae, IÂ’m not at all surprised that the infamous womanizer mentioned her.
LB: Some of the things you promise are the very same tenants that Abigail Winters, the last proprietress, followed. But her disappearance long predates your arrival. Is it coincidence then, or have you perhaps met Lady Winters?
MT: I think it's just simply coincidence... I never knew Lady Winters but I have been told her story. Lady Winters seems like such a wonderful person and I can only hope to carry the image of this clinic in a good light.
LB: Of course she was close with the ghaele you mentioned. Nero Urbane, I presume? Are you familiar with the nature of their relationship?
ItÂ’s a fair question, and even though I already know the Abigail Winters was renowned for her unbreakable chastity, I hope to illicit a response from the young drow.
MT: Oh, I, um... do not dwell on the privacy between two individuals. I am lead to understand that they were close friends and I simply leave it at that. Nero is a kind man, a bit silly sometimes, but with good intentions.
She only barely just evades my trap, and awkwardly at that. But her charm is undeniable and I find myself liking her all the more for it. And with her off guard, maybe I can get something else even better out of her.
LB: Then what of your own relationship with the man? Let's face it, you're drop dead gorgeous and Nero has earned his reputation. Don't you have something juicy to share with my readers?
MT: Juicy? Um... our relationship is simply professional. It would be kind of silly, wouldn't it? A celestial pairing with a drow. The multiverse just may explode.
Oh, the poor naive thing. While I canÂ’t conjecture what her own romantic future will hold, her cluelessness is made starkly apparent by her preconceptions of inter-species love and sex. And I havenÂ’t missed that she has disappointed my query.
LB: Stranger things have happened. But I won't pry into your girl business. As I look around I see the clinic clean and welcoming. You've obviously been hard at work. Will you please describe exactly what you do here?
MT: Well. From what I was told, the old clinic worked off donations. I however, do tend to go out on adventurers for some field work, if you could call it that. So I bring in fresh food and supplies for the house. This could be anything from surgical equipment to lets say... pillows. It just really depends what kind of sales are going on in the Bazaar that day. I cook and prepare the meals for the day at least twice, to ensure those who come here receive fresh food. Now, I do have some helpers so I'm not alone.
So her enterprize is almost exactly like AbigailÂ’s. Lady Winters was also proud of the clinicÂ’s self sufficiency and how it relied only upon volunteers and donations. Like MayÂ’thrae, she would join with adventurers during their journeys, often asking for nothing in recompense for her healing aid aside from the aforementioned donations. MayÂ’thrae may be young and clueless, but sheÂ’s certainly not stupid, and itÂ’s remarkable how quickly she has pulled together such a delicate arrangement.
LB: Your helpers were my next question. Abigail had no shortage of volunteers, both of her faith and of the adventurers. Have any of the old faces returned to lend you their assistance?
MT: Well, we obviously have Nero. We also have a woman named Kala. Both are old faces. There is also another woman named ... umÂ…. Nyrralah? I believe? We also can't forget Khari, who makes sure things go smooth.
LB: What about Amyldra, Abigail's former right hand? Surely she's returned to assist her fellow drowess?
MT: Oh, I've heard of her. But I have yet to see her. One must understand that nothing is forever. Some of those who once dwelled here have moved on, or have found a plane as a home or have developed families.
LB: Oh, I completely understand, but I have to ask these things. So who's the pretty young blonde brooding to my left?
I met her when I arrived to find she and MayÂ’thrae conversing in the street just outside the clinic. SheÂ’s young and human, blonde and pretty, but she declined to participate in the interview and instead has observed from aside. Oh, and sheÂ’s frowning at my mention of her.
MT: That is Khari, she is my guardian. I am rather comfortable with the way I look and I like to wear exotic outfits... Clothing would be a big third in my list of things I like. Tending to people being my first.
Exotic clothing indeed. MayÂ’thrae is lavishly wrapped in white silks and velvets that cling to her curves and sport just the right amount of skin. SheÂ’s the polar opposite of her predecessor who habitually wore baggy robes and a hood to conceal her femininity. The drowess seems intent on flaunting hers.
MT: So she was hired to look after me and to provide guidance.
LB: By yourself or by another?
MT: It was a group effort. Nero and I had a long debate over the matter, then he spoke to her. Then she spoke to me, then I decided.
LB: Fair enough. One last thing, May, and then I'll leave you to your work. It's true that our Hive readership is dismally small. But is there anything you would like to say to the people here, or to Sigil as a whole? Is there a message you would like to send to the hurt, hungry and needy?
MT: The Weary Spirit remains non-affiliated and a free house of healing. If you are hurt. If you are hungry or if you need assistance. We are here and we will try to help.
LB: Now that's a message worth delivering. Thank you, May. And thank you, Khari. I hope that this column brings you more donations, support, and sick to heal. Lady's grace, May.
MT: Ladies Grace to you as well.
I leave the pair alone to their clinic and work, and I canÂ’t help but smile despite the filth that clogs the street before me. Our fair city has seen its due in monsters and tyrants, self appointed kings and self aggrandized thugs, weÂ’ve seen the pitiless and the arrogant, the depraved and the cruel. But for all those who would clad themselves in blackness and sin, there are still a few that want for nothing more than to help those who exist beneath our feet. And I believe that MayÂ’thrae is one of them.