A Local Perspective

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Dazir - The Arboretum

Eidos walks in silence with her elderly companion through a garden of greens, reds, and every color imaginable. The lively foliage stands in stark contrast to the deathly desert she came through to get here. If we had a wolf, a serpent, and a crow, it’d be the spitting image of the mural near where I woke up.

“This is what Kabu was said to look like long ago,” says the old woman. “Back in the times of Ark.” She then adds with a rather sour dissonance now in her tone, “Before Rikharr’s betrayal.” But her pruny visage soon regains the gentle creases of jocularity it so often hosts.

Rada slows to a stop, suddenly plopping down onto a stone bench to rest a moment. “Hope you don’t mind if I sit for a beat, dear. These legs just aren’t as strong as they used to be.”

Eidos sits down beside her. “By all means, take as long as you need, Rada.” Yeah, you’re a breath of fresh air in this nest of assholes.

“Biracul speaks through you, child.” She places a hand on Eidos’ shoulder. But suddenly her smile fades and her features become grave, “But there’s something… odd about you.” Her sunken eyes begin to examine Eidos from head to toe. “Yes, something… off.”

“What do you mean?” Eidos replies, a bit self-conscious now. Yeah, what do you mean?

Rada abruptly ends her scrutiny, offering, “Oh, well, for one, you’re not of Kabu—and it’s mighty rare to have visitors from the outside these days. Last flying caravan came years ago…” she trails off.

Eidos stares at Rada expectantly, soon encouraging her to speak on, “But why would people stop coming?”

Slightly shocked at the question, Rada counters, “Oh, child, you’d think a foreigner like yourself would know how hard it is to get here in the first place!” After a moment, she continues, “Kabu is as isolated as it gets! The Duskfangs shield our back and the canyon guards our fore, not to mention the draugnir beyond the canyon.” She stops, carefully weighing Eidos’ reaction, “How did you get here? You may be young, but I can’t really see you scaling the sheer cliffs surrounding the Jenowin Plain,” she adds with a chuckle.

Eidos pauses, wondering just how much honesty she should inject into her answer. Why not tell her the truth?! She’s a nice lady! “I awoke in a building to the south of here, already on the plain. Then, I just walked here. Didn’t see any cliffs, just desert,” she says with an unfiltered honesty, uncharacteristic of a diplomat, but perhaps fitting given who Eidos is speaking with.

Rada listens with a half smile, chewing on her words before she speaks, “Well, that’s fine, dear. We ladies must always have some secrets.” Hey! She doesn’t believe us! Then, taking a deep breath, she says, “Well, I think I’m rested enough to lead you to the cloudstone now! Shall we?”

Eidos stands, offering Rada a hand, and between the two of them, they manage to get her on her rickety feet again. Then the two walk for another short while in comfortable silence before finally arriving at the very center of the garden.

“Over yonder, you see that fountain?” Rada suddenly asks, pointing to an opulent marble structure, more waterfall than fountain. “That’s where our water comes in from the Wellspring. And in that shallow pool there is the Farcaster seal.” She looks at Eidos with a hint of shame, “Sorry to make you get your feet wet, but no one has used the thing in a thousand years, so we haven’t really been maintaining the barrier around it. Do forgive us, will you?”

“A little water never hurt anyone,” Eidos replies with a smile.

“Oh, you’re just so sweet!” She says as she pinches Eidos’ cheek. Ouch, damn that hurt! Rada then waddles in place, turning to face an enormous circular disk, diligently guarded by a man asleep. His long beard and myriad wrinkles make even Rada seem as though she were in the spring of her youth by comparison. “And over there is the cloudstone, you can take that down to the lower tiers to ask your questions.”

“Thank you, Rada. For everything.” Except for the cheek pinch…

Worry soon refolds the jovial creases of her smile into a frown. “You be careful in there, you hear? The Wellspring is no longer safe!”

“I will. I’ll be back to return the Sigil right after I’ve released the water. I promise.”

The matronly smile gains ground, finally replacing the frown. “Bless your Trueflesh, Eidos. May the light of the Shining One guide you.”

Eidos turns to the cloudstone, and moves towards it and its resting guardian. As she approaches, she can hear him snoring louder than a summer storm. When she arrives, she stands before him and clears her throat to get his attention. More snoring is her reply. She tries again, this time more loudly. The old man continues to snore, also more loudly. I can’t tell if he’s actually asleep or just ignoring me…

Uncertainty leads her to abandon the idea of having a conversation with the man, and she proceeds to step onto the cloudstone. A great purr erupts from the device and soon, a brilliant violet haze encircles the entire device.

The old man is suddenly roused by the loud noise and bright light, falling halfway out of his chair.

“Biracul’s balls! Ya tryin’ to kill me?” says the man, still half asleep. “Damn near sent me to the Graylands!” Then mashing a near toothless mouth, he adds, “I’m too young to die, you hear!”

Confused, Eidos offers and apology, “I’m sorry… I tried to wake you, but couldn’t and just thought I’d figure out myself how to get down to the lower tiers.”

“Well, ya’d better be sorry! Back in my heyday, I could slap the ‘kharr outta a draug, and I’d venture I could still slap it outta you, too!” He raises a pair of shaking fists. I’m pretty sure the only one you can hurt is yourself, old man…

“You have my most sincere apologies.” I’m not sure I’m actually sorry.

“Well, of course I do!” he says, spitting off to the side with an elegance not even old age could take from him. “What is it you want anyway, boy? Can't you see I'm resting!?” Not only is he senile, he’s blind, too.

“Well, I was hoping you could tell me about Dazir and the current cri…”

“If I have to explain Dazir to one more foreigner,” he interrupts, “I'll go as mad as an outhouse Jinn!”

“Oh, okay, sorry to dis…”

“Fine!” he says, cutting her short. “Now pick up your ears, boy; only gonna say this once!” Still not a boy… “Dazir isn't a flat township like the one those Tambulan bumpkins inhabit.” He spits again. “Tambul? ‘Cradle of Biracul’s Children’?!” He squints an eye and leans in as though about to divulge a great secret.

“BWAHAHAHAHAhaha…hahaha…hhhh…” he starts to wheeze uncontrollably.

Concerned, Eidos ask, “Are you…”

“Oh, don't make an old man laugh himself to an early grave! Now where was I…?” A lengthy pause ensues. Why say anything? He’ll just inter…

“Shut up! I'm old, not senile, you jinnlickin' fool!” he says, now shouting at no one in particular. “So, as I was saying… We built our township vertically—a much better use of space, I'm sure even you'll agree. And it gets us closer up the slope of Mount Kefkan towards the Wellspring! You can use this here Cloudstone to go to the other levels.”

Not sure whether to just get on and leave or to venture another question, Eidos simply stands there and waits. The old man just stares.

Finally, Eidos decides she’d might as well get as much as she can out the interaction and begins to…

“Listen up, because old Asansor will only tell you one time and one time alone! Because I never repeat myself, you hear?! So listen up, because old Asansor will only tell you one time and one time alone!

“The lowest tier is for the rank and file Dazirans who do much of the unmasterful labors—may be simple and dull-witted compared to the upper tiers, but I doubt the best of what the other towns have to offer is their equal!” Can I leave yet?

Continuing on, uninterrupted, Asansor preaches, “The second tier is for the artisans of Dazir! Those learned elite who’re trained in unearthing and manipulating relics of the Vanquished!

“Finally, there's the Arboretum where we stand, which is for Khaa, Quangjo, and their trusted citizens alone!

“You aren't likely to find a man with as many years of experience and loyal service under his belt than old Asansor in the levels below!” A triumphant smirk now hides among the maze of wrinkles that is his face, as he stares down his nose at Eidos.

Suddenly, Asansor’s expression goes blank, “Wait a minute…” He eyes her with suspicion, shoulders tensing. “How'd you even get up here in the first place?!”

Not that she can explain much, but Eidos starts with what she knows, “I was found on the…”

“Oh, not that I much care anyways…” his shoulder slump into the relaxed posture of old age. “Now off with you, you jinnlickin' fool! I'm trying to sleep!”

Within the span of a thought, the old man renews his slumber.

Hesitant to step on the platform and wake the old man again, Eidos stays in place for a while. No, come on! Let’s just go, please! But finally, necessity overrides propriety and she leaps for the cloudstone.

The artifact whirs into activity, and she senses it posing a question to her, asking where she needs to go. The second tier is where the artisans are, I think.

The device roars and begins its descent. The reawakened guardian spits curses down on Eidos as she whisked away, down towards the second tier.

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Dazir - The Workshop

Grinding wheels, saws, drills, and hammers all work away at stone, wood, metal and glass. Clinking and buzzing. Cracking and snapping. The bizarre percussive symphony moves along at a hypnotic tempo, lulling the worker spirit into a frenzy. As music would make a person want to dance, so too does this instrumental make Eidos want to work. It takes a great force of will to stop herself from rolling up her sleeves and joining in the industrial bacchanal.

Looking around, Eidos notes that while some implements are wielded manually, larger equipment is compelled by driving wheels and complex gear arrangements, themselves turned by water spouting from numerous, variably-pressured fonts in the upper walls. Other rarer items seem to be crystal-driven and also seem to be the most frighteningly powerful among the tools. Lovely, more crystals. Eidos then, inexplicably shivers at the thought.

The entire area is abuzz with activity. Scores of people are in equal measure discussing, reading, crafting, and drafting. All wear clothing marked by distinctive turquoise accents—some even don frocks turquoise in their entirety.

While most of the folk here are hard at work, closer inspection reveals that a distinction exists between those wearing turquoise merely as arm bands and those in similarly colored robes: the former perform the hard labor; whereas, the latter appear to have a more supervisory role.

Two among the crowd seem to be at loose ends, and as such, free to exchange words with Eidos. One is an elderly chap with a long white bea… No! No more crazy old men! While the other is a sharp-looking yet restless fellow, neither old nor young. That one! However, before she can choose, the younger of the two makes his approach.

Without preamble, he begins, “If you're wondering what an impressive artisan such as myself is doing with an abundance of leisure time, then I assure you I haven't been cursed by the despondent touch of the Obsidian Jinn…” Clasping his hands behind his back, he turns and pauses for dramatic effect. Suddenly spinning around he renews his performance, “No! For you see, I've good reason to be vexed by my idleness!”

“I’m sure you have your reasons, Mr…” Eidos politely offers.

With an escalating excitement at having found a sympathetic ear to talk at, he continues, “Behiye’s the name and indeed, I do have my reasons! Though I am an expert in Vanquished crystalline artifice, ever since our expulsion from the Wellspring I've been prevented from my customary metier, you see.”

“In fact, that’s precisely what I wanted to talk about…”

“Yes, very nice,” he says ignoring her comment. “As I'm sure you can imagine, I've had more than my fair share of respite! But I fear that my fellows may mistake such unindustrious behavior with torpescence!”

“Well, I’m sure everyone understands, what with the situation inside the Wellspring and all,” Eidos tries again. It’s pointless with these types; they just say what they want. Don’t even try, body.

“Yes, yes, for sure. But as you can surmise, I can ill-afford to stare idly at the four walls any longer!” he says while raising a finger pointed skyward.

Seeing that he is more interested in a ‘conversation’ focused on himself, the diplomatic Eidos changes tactics, “What is it you normally do for Dazir?”

Beaming with self-importance, Behiye replies, “Crystal authorities, such as myself, are charged with identifying various minerals, both naturally-occurring and of Vanquished make!”

“Fascinating!” she enthusiastically goads.

“Indeed it is!” he says chuckling in delight. “It's we who determine their use for the good of the township, or their preservation for the use of future generations…” He pauses, solemnly bowing his head. Then, raising his gaze skyward, as though surveying all of his past accomplishments, he adds, “For example, you can thank my predecessors for the very cloudstone lift that brought you here!”

“Yes, it’s a marvelous invention! Would you mind sharing, how else crystals are used by your community?”

“Why, nothing would give me greater pleasure!” He looks at her with child-like giddiness as he begins to enumerate the various answers to her query, “Well, first, we use violet crystals to create lifts, bridges, and barriers. Then, the red crystals are simply preserved for their ancient records. And of course, any white crystal would be used by the Archives of a given township to shape the growth of the Muninn Trees!”

Seeing her chance to direct the flow of the conversation, Eidos offers, “All wonderful functions indeed. But, I gather the crystals do nothing to protect you, what with the Wellspring incident and all…”

A hint of righteous indignation frames his smug smile as he replies, “You're about as correct in that assumption as a Jinnwraith is harmless! If you doubt me, then travel to Tambul and see the marvel that is the gate leading to the Dawn Fortress!” Triumphant he looks off to the side and with a grand gesture of the hands add, “The glorious Gate of Celestial Judgment!”

We’re losing him, body. Nice try, but I doubt he’ll tell us anything about the Wellspring. With a slight frown, Eidos regroups and pushes forward, “I’m sure it’s magnificent, but…”

“Magnificent?!” Behiye says slightly shocked. “Truth be told and the words of Famlaz scorned! The protection proffered by that very gate is one of the only obstacles keeping Khlutt and his illiterati from assaulting Dazir!” Fear now creeps into his voice, “Without it, the barbarous Tacribs would swarm us like a plague of locusts!”

“A useful defense, indeed. I stand corrected,” she concedes the point, trying desperately to think of a way to coax out something useful from the man. I’m telling you, it’s a waste of time, body. You should listen to me once in a while.

Shaking the fear from his face with a few quick jerks of the neck, he continues, “But what were we discussing before such an inauspicious tangent derailed us?” The man looks genuinely puzzled. But then, his eyes light up at the discovery of his lost topic, “Ah, yes! Crystals and their myriad uses!” he says, as though having just invented the wheel. “You know, Rashak of the ‘unhinged jaw’,” suddenly he leans in and whispers in a secretive tone, “called thus because he talks so much, ho ho!” He winks, and moving to a more comfortable distance, renews his lecture, “Well, he theorizes that it might be possible to imbue spent crystals with new energy…

“But then again, he lacks the restraint of thought and humility of words for which I am acclaimed among my peers,” he says, without even a hint of irony. “Though, if one were to do this, who knows what could be achieved…? A mage might well be able to put such a power to some use, perfidious or otherwise!”

Utterly defeated, Eidos decides to move on. “Well, this was a truly enlightening discussion. My past experiences with crystals have been mostly negative, so it’s good to hear they’re not all so bad.”

“Bad experiences?!” Shock and horror now tinge his voice. “An amateur should never be allowed near a crystal!” he emphatically adds.

“Why not?” Because they cause pain and inject weird green things into you, that’s why not!

“Why, because they are brimming with energy, that’s why not! One wrong move and they’ll explode! Which, unless you enjoy the company of the Obsidian Jinn, is never good!” That I did not know…

“Then, I suppose I should just avoid all crystals,” Eidos says, half in jest.

“Impossible! Crystals are everywhere! Why, if you want to avoid crystals completely, then you had best go into the very darkest depths of the Wasteland, outsider! For crystals hold no power out there… Yes, not even Techne can work beyond the Dawn Fortress, they say, and venture any further into the Wastes and humans lose the light of their very own mind-crystals!” The ‘Wasteland’? Sounds pleasant…

“Is that so?” she replies, and before the man can continue, she adds, “Well, I appreciate all the advice, good sir. But I really must be going!”

Genuine sadness and dismay batter his features into a depressing sight. The pitiable expression on his face accompanies an appropriately stupefied silence.

“Have a good day then,” Eidos says as she begins to walk away. Finally, now let’s definitely avoid that Rashak guy, because if this guy thinks he talks to much, then…

Choking back tears, the man says, “Fare thee well, stranger. Biracul guide you.” Shoulders slump and he turns to walk away.

Having survived the conversation with Behiye, Eidos scans the area, noting that most folk here are still completely absorbed in their work. Despite her unexplained presence, none seem to take much interest in her. Wishing to avoid another fruitless conversation with a crystal expert, YES! she exits the workshop.

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Dazir - The Workshop Exterior

The heat outside the workshop is unbearable. A completely shadowless junkyard, this area appears to serve as a repository for excess materials. Piles of stone and wood litter the cobblestone floor, while great stacks of spooled twine are nestled firmly up against the workshop’s walls. Set apart from all miscellany, however, is a great lattice of crystals. Okay, I know what you’re thinking, body, but don’t do it!

What at first appears to be the blinding reflection from the sun's unforgiving rays instead reveals itself to be the radiant energy housed within the crystals themselves. So bright, so resplendent are they, that Eidos cannot help but avert her tear-filled eyes from them. This lattice appears to be of great importance as it is both isolated from all other areas and boasts a contingent of nearly thirty guards around the perimeter. Good! Guards means we can’t go over there! See?

She soon sees that a great number of turquoise-robed people mill about the place, ordering others about with grand gestures and stern faces. Those commanded wear heavy work aprons with turquoise bands tied around their upper arms. Mindlessly they obey all orders, moving with a practiced efficiency well beyond the ordinary. Perfectly tuned, well-oiled cogs, they each perform their part flawlessly, giving life to the machinery of Dazir.

At the eastern edge of the junkyard, a banister overlooks the Jenowin Plain. Wow! It’s nothing but desert! How did I cross that! Several of the aproned workers appear to linger there, taking a rest from their back-breaking labor.

Further north into town is a large plaza, speckled with thick, stone columns jutting out from the floor like the quills of a giant, rocky porcupine. At the center of the plaza is a decadent fountain of massive proportions, towering over the tops of the columns, reaching nearly to the topmost tier of the township. Oh, so up there is where Rada lives.

A bit weary at the prospect of talking to another ‘expert’, Eidos makes her way towards the stone columns, hoping to speak with a more agreeable character.

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Dazir - The Artisans’ Plaza

All around her is a bustling plaza. Dominating the area is a marble fountain several stories tall and well over one hundred paces in diameter. A number of conversing turquoise-clad pairs stroll around the fountain, while a few individuals sit upon the fountain's lip and in its shade, seeking refuge from the midday sun.

Myriad pillars rise from the ground, supporting nothing but the open sky. They are all covered in remarkably beautiful mosaics depicting the history of the Daziran people—notable among them is one of a gallant female mage wielding a verdant spear as she charges into battle against pale, drooling abominations. Green weapons must be a thing, I guess.

One whole side of the area is open to the desert, allowing for a spectacular panoramic view of the desolate landscape—though to the south, constant dust cyclones kick up airborne sediment obscuring any distant landmarks. However, looking out from the mountains toward the east, a silver tower rejects the sun's rays, at once inviting and forbidding perception with its blinding reflections. The township beneath it is barely visible amid the brilliance.

Further along this railed viewing area appears to be a luxurious residential area. Though she is now quite some distance from the workshop, the sound of hammers on stone, and grinding cogs still announces its presence to the world.

Eidos scans the area, looking for a suitable interlocutor. While most of the people in the immediate vicinity are strolling about already engaged in conversation, a select few seem to be available for a chat. Among them, a handsome young man with a kind face catches her eye. She moves toward him with a smile.

“Greetings, foreigner! Have you come in search of the secrets of the Vanquished?” he says with a genuine smile. He smiles like Rada! Maybe it’s her grandson…

“Who are the Vanquished?” she asks, confusion carved clearly into her features.

With a hint of surprise, and yet without judgment, he replies, “Odd, I thought the Vanquished were known everywhere.”

Slightly embarrassed, she explains, “I’ve been remiss in my education. Perhaps you could share some Daziran wisdom with me.”

A charming smile precedes his apology, “Oh, well, I fear you're in for an unpleasant surprise, as we Dazirans are not nearly so wise as we've claimed to be.”

“But aren’t you the intellectuals of the region?” she says. “Most all of you seem to know much, so I just thought your function might be as scholars or something of that nature.”

“Our function is—or rather, was—to maintain the Wellspring and the aqueducts that supplied all of the townships with water.” His voice adopts a tearless sorrow as he continues, “However, in truth, we are little more than glorified stone masons.”

“But surely, your expertise in maintaining the Wellspring is still unique,” Eidos replies in an attempt to console the crestfallen artisan.

“True, but I’m convinced magi and townships across the world each hold some unique knowledge. Sadly, it's all scattered about in the six directions—and jealously guarded at that.” Suddenly letting optimism enter his voice again, he says, “Undoubtedly, Biracul was right about communication being the key to civilization.” Who’s this Biracul guy, I keep hearing about?

“What I wouldn’t give,” he continues, “to be able to freely cross the Wasteland! Like a modern-day Torma! Oh, the characters we’d meet! Magi in Jer, Zemes, Zhili or even Thiuda!”

“Perhaps one day you will, Mr… I didn’t catch you’re name. I’m Eidos.”

“And I am Serpil, Miss Eidos. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sensing a chance to finally get some answers, she says, “Serpil, I was wondering if you could help me with some questions I had.”

“Though my knowledge be meager, if it can answer your queries, it’s yours.”

“Thank you so much!” Success elevates her pitch to a squeal. Cheeks turning red, she quickly continues, “Well, I’ve been enlisted to help with the situation in the Wellspring…”

Shock and dismay elicit a shout. “The Wellspring?!” Serpil soon regains control of his voice and continues at a more acceptable volume, “But it’s sealed… no one can get in!”

“No one can get in… through conventional means, that is. I happen to be rather unconventional…” she says with a false exuberance.

“Really?! That’s great!” But his excited smile is soon replaced with a worried frown. “But, no… you can’t enter the Wellspring, Eidos. It’s simply too dangerous!”

“What happened in there, Serpil?”

He hesitates, averting his gaze. This guy knows something… Out with it, Serpil!

“Please, Serpil,” Eidos places a hand on his shoulder. “If I’m going to help, I need to know what to expect in there. Besides, I’m stronger than I look,” she says, jokingly flexing her biceps.

“The truth is,” he starts, “No one knows what happened in there.”

“No one?”

“Not a single surviving artisan—not even Khaa himself. The neverborn just swept in without warning, like a horde of draugnir!” Emotion overwhelms his sense of propriety. “If I hadn’t been near the Gate of the Heathen when it all happened, I would’ve been slaughtered… just like the rest of them.” He pauses. “Their screams. I still hear their screams.” Tears begin to accompany weak sobs.

With a renewed sense of purpose, “You leave it to me, Serpil. I’ll fix this mess.” The man only weeps in response.

And with that she stands and moves to return toward the cloudstone, and toward the Farcaster that will take her to her task.

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Dazir - The Arboretum

Eidos returns to the garden as noisily as she departed, once again waking the sleeping guardian. He merely eyes her with suspicion and annoyance for a moment before renewing his slumber. At least I didn’t have to speak to him again.

She then spots her target, patiently waiting in the shimmering pool within the fountain. Eidos moves toward it with a tempered sense of urgency. She knows that time is of the essence, but can also see the folly in rushing into the unknown.

Her few conversations with the citizenry yielded meager fruits, but at the very least she knows two things: the Wellspring is dangerous and it must be fixed.

Stepping into the fountain, she moves toward the seal, and just as happened in the Sanctuary where she first saw a Farcaster, it calls to her. It begs her to use her Sigil. Oh, I remember that, all right. Seemed dangerous then, seems dangerous now.

Now atop the seal, Eidos instinctively places her hand upon the Sigil. Instinct becomes will, will then becoming thought. An image slowly forms, burning out lines from the void. A circle manifests, weaving an intricate tapestry of lines, never crossing, as they traverse dimensions linking paths among them. And soon, the Glyph from her Sigil is fully formed, completing the reaction. Here we go.

From the corner of her eye, she spots the Daziran mage leader gazing down at her from the balcony of his abode. Khaa stares on, eyes wide, filled with expectation and curiosity in equal measure.

Then, in the space of a thought, the Farcaster begins to disassemble her, bit by bit, unraveling the threads of her physicality, distilling what she is into an ever-compressing essence. What’s going on?! Soon, only the memory of her destination remains present as what she has become makes the journey toward it.