SUMMER

Angkar: Wet season. Precipitation is common during the late afternoon and evening hours. Vegetation grows significantly during the summer, but flooding is a danger due to the monsoons that ravage the country. The rainforest sees evenly distributed rainfall throughout the season.

Ashoka: Desert: Extremely hot and dry. Violent, heavy downpours following long dryspells. Jungle: Hot and humid with frequent, violent rainstorms.

Morrim: Relatively hot and dry, but with a chance of thunderstorms from time to time. The heat may cause forest fires.

Soto: Hot and humid, tree cover is dense while ground growth is restricted. Thunderstorms see the most amount of rainfall during the season, and it can be very windy. On occasion, there are flash floods that can destroy homes and farms built on flood plains.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

March 30th, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has changed hands and is now under new management! If you have any questions, please direct them to DaringRaven! As for the rest of the announcements, including a season change, you can find them over here at the following link!

January 16, 2018 As you might have noticed, Elenlond has a new skin, all thanks to Mel! Don't forget to check out the new OTMs as well!

December 2, 2017 Winter has settled on Elenlond, bringing sleep for some and new life for others.

September 26, 2017 With the belated arrival of autumn come some interesting developments: new OTMs, a Town Crier and the release of the Elly Awards winners!

July 14, 2017 After a bit of forum clean-up, Elly Awards season has arrived! Head on over to make your nominations!

May 31, 2017 Summer has arrived and so has activity check! That's not all though – we also have some new OTMs for you and some staff changes!


WHAT IS ELENLOND?

Elenlond is an original free-form medieval fantasy RPG set on the continent of Soare and the Scattered Isles, which are located to the south in the Sea of Diverging Waters. The four chief nations of the western side of the world—Ashoka in northern Soare, Soto in western Soare, Morrim in eastern Soare, and Angkar, the largest of the Scattered Isles—continue to experience growth and prosperity since the fall of the Mianorite gods, although power struggles within the countries—or outside of them—continue to ensue.


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    My Heart Comes Undone; Sammeln :3
    Topic Started: May 22 2014, 09:40 PM (284 Views)
    Nevneni
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    Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.

    Nevneni closed her eyes, burying her face in the waxy heat of the sunlight, and for a moment she was elsewhere. A year ago, her room in Fairin had felt much the same way as this light did now, even though she kept the curtains shut so that the sunlight would not touch Vorkael's skin. There was no explaining the similarity, except that perhaps the feeling was something about a warmth from within, the warmth that sprouted and blossomed involuntarily and filled her thorny chest with vermillion flowers.

    Whatever it was, she was there again, dropping her dress and looking down at her dimly glowing body, which reminded her of when she'd looked down at herself once while swimming in Navale Lake and seen her flesh as pale as corpse, wavering down towards the depths. A year ago, she looked up from her body and learned how not to be afraid of Vorkael's golden eyes and so she went to the bed where he laid. Her corpse-flesh melted under his hands and she was formed anew by love, by his hands on her hips, her breasts, her face. Or at least she believed that she was reshaped, but that can hardly be true. The changes must have only been superficial; just look at where she is now! Somehow she came back where she began

    "What the hell're ye doin' girlie?! Takin' a nap?! Ah got work tah do!"

    Nevneni's eyes flickered open and she stared down at the straw-haired man lying flat across her bedroll on the dusty fairground. She had her small hands on his arm, which was bent at a right angle at the elbow. His hand grabbed at the cloth of her sleeve, clenching tight with the pain of his dislocated shoulder. She'd been in the process of opening his arm to the side, gently pushing it upwards, when he had suddenly jerked in pain, cursing and spitting profusely. That was when she had closed her eyes and forgotten where she was.

    "Sir, if you'd please just keep still." She carefully bent his arm outwards, her cold hands guiding his hot flesh. He began to curse but she ignored it and soon his shoulder clicked back into place. This elicited a yell from the man, making Nevneni startle back, but the next moment he released a satisfied sigh. "Ah, tha's much better. Feels a'righ'.'" He smiled, his blue eyes watery, and Nevneni looked away. She stood up, and so did he, and he immediately started rooting in his purse for money.

    "No, please, you don't have to pay me," she said, her eyes focusing somewhere in the region of his scruffy chin.

    "Eh? Ye'll never make a livin' if ye work for free."

    "This was something you needed," she said simply, "You couldn't do any work with your arm like that."

    The man raised an eyebrow, his hand still in his purse. "Well...Perhaps I can buy ye a drink la'er?"

    Nevneni looked him in the face, but not in the eye, almost considering it for a moment. He was young, perhaps the same age that she appeared to be, and handsome, with a wedge-shaped nose and a brow like a cliff. He was strong, probably from some sort of farm work if her guess at his accent was correct. Vorkael was fresh in her mind, lying white and still in the darkened corner of her bedroom, occupying that unclosed niche of her mind. Could there ever be such a thing again? His hands had touched her surface and moulded it like clay, so perhaps some other hands could take her and throw her on the work table, fold her up and spin her out into a new shape.

    For a brief moment, she looked into the man's sky blue eyes and felt her heart ticking at her ribcage. That, however, was the same as ever. Who could ever change that old rhythm, set in her from childhood? "No, thank you."

    "Are ye married?"

    "No."

    "Ah. Well, each to their own." He took her limp hand and placed a coin in it, folded her fingers over the metal and placed pressure on them, as if kneading clay.

    There was no giving it back and Nevneni knew that. "Be careful lifting those crates," she said lamely, and off he went, walking around her spot on the earth and entering the stream of people that flowed down the makeshift street of the trade fair. Nevneni stood there long enough to disappear, then stepped over her bedroll to sit down on the blanket she'd spread on the ground. She folded her legs under her, spreading her madder-dyed skirt across the blanket.

    She'd become part of the fair by pure accident. She'd been wandering along the road, trying to get nowhere, and the rumble of cartwheels had crept up behind her and suddenly she was swallowed up by the group. She'd talked to a few people and eventually wound up setting up outside Madrid even though she'd only been there a month ago and even though she had no real stall. So, there she was, with a blanket on which she spread out her bundles of herbs with little labels made of scrap parchment and a painted wooden sign that said "TINCTURES, TEAS AND REMEDIES." So far, she'd helped out with several headaches, more than a few cases of insomnia, a couple of chesty coughs and now a dislocated shoulder.

    The crowd streamed on by under the sun. Someone was singing nearby; she listened to a few stanzas and guessed that the song was a solemn ballad about the doomed love of some Councillor and a drow woman. She closed her eyes again, sinking back into those warm shadows where Vorkael's cold hands guided her body here, there. Afterwards, he held her like a statue and her heat poured into his flesh. He had been utterly still; he was part dead, he did not twitch like a human did, not even when he fell asleep. She rarely slept, even after she was tired from their work. She just laid there and thought that his arm would slip through her soft, waxy side and cleave her in two.

    The song ended and her eyes opened. The crowd poured on by as before, but a swab of glittering red caught at her eye. She turned to see it and felt her stomach do a back-flip, recognising the tall Ophite who had been at the Empress' ball. She struggled to remember his name, as the event had mostly been overshadowed by the fact that she'd collapsed less than a minute after he proposed to the Empress. She did remember his show however and how odd that had made her feel, as if he had been making her see something that she ought not to see.

    She realised, in a moment of self-consciousness, that she was staring at him, watching the lacing of blue that seemed to ripple through his red scales as he walked. Surely he would notice her staring and catch her eye, but she hoped not. And yet she almost hoped he would.
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    Sammeln
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    A movement had started, somewhere some independent merchant had gotten an idea, over drinks probably, with other independent merchants that they could travel together, without guilds or rules or any organization save the bonds of camaraderie, and as one make a pilgrimage of sorts, to far off lands where their wares would be splendid and exotic. This sort of thing happened from time to time. There were some, in the business world, who preferred to squelch such things so they could maintain control, while others enjoyed the surprise of commerce and sudden increase in trade and profits that would flow across the land like a cool gust of wind on a hot summers day. Sammeln had a different approach.

    When they news had gotten to him, he made swift preparations, and sent word ahead for some of the wandering merchants that were in his pocket, that they were to join this procession, as it was a profitable venture that would benefit them both. Sammeln's plan was not to stop it, or let it pass by unchecked. No, he felt it best to become part of this, to be within it was the best course of action. This traveling caravan of disassociated parts coming together to create a whole, was a positive movement that could be benefited if his face was noted among it. These sorts of gatherings from all over, that flow through the land leaving and taking things from further places had the potential to be sources of unimaginable treasures. Rare artifacts held by those who knew not what they had, new fashions that influence the country, and upstart talents waiting to be discovered were among the many treasures he might hope to procure from this venture.

    So, the faceless troupe in their black and white garb and featureless masks, were gathered under their own black and white tent, and the performers allowed, for once, to fulfill their role as entertainers. This was not a function they were often able to exercise any more, not since Sammeln had gotten hold of them. That was not to say they did not excel in it, simply that it was a rare treat for them as well as those fortunate enough to behold it. Their traveling act was profitable enough, and among a few carts and wagons for supplies, Sammeln was able to discretely travel. He had been allowing the troupe to be his eyes and ears for the most part while he conducted business by correspondence, and was occasionally directed to worthwhile acquisitions in the fair; but here in Madrid, this seemed a stop where he should certainly walk among the streets himself.

    Normally this gathering of gems both present and hidden delighted the reptilian hoarder. He would have reveled in pointing out scams, sneering at inferior products, and snatching trophies from the hands of those who did not realize what they had. On the battlefield of business, he could reign superior over all others, however today it did not feel like enough. While he continued to find the rare and exquisite, and have it placed in his care, to be cherished and protected on his estate, he did so out of his personal sense of duty and found no joy in it on this day.

    Sammeln's green orbs burned with a hunger as they ever did; but for what he himself could not say. It was a feeling he had read about in books, and one that was not unfamiliar to him, Sehnsucht . He wanted something, but did not know what. Sammeln hungered for something he did not know how to find or what it even was. He missed something he was almost certain he never had, and was frustrated by the lack of knowing. … No, this was not Sehnsucht … he knew what he wanted; but he knew he could not have it. Happy families laughed and gasped together at entertainment that seemed bland at best when compared to the wonders Sammeln had beheld, and possessed. Groups of people stood together sharing food or drink and walking side by side through the tents. Sammeln, however, bereft of his usual entourage, was alone.

    He felt all his silent and faceless companions were unwelcome in his present mood. He had no desire to be patronized or lavished with hollow praise from leeches and parasites that desired only what he could bring them and nothing more. The companionship of individuals who resented his ownership of them and refused to see the good intentions or practicality behind it was more welcome than the worship of the hangers-on, but in his present mood their resent would only lead him to anger, and anger to violence and violence to ruin of many sorts.

    He had passed through the fair and never did any creature obstruct his path. Eager merchants who knew who he was would try to flaunt their wares more loudly, but not call out to him specifically, while others would grow tense and some crowds fall silent as he passed. Sammeln was a monster to them, still after all he had gathered, all he had learned, all he had done, mothers still clutched their children a little closer when he passed.

    Clad in a kilt of leather straps, like those of warriors from other kingdoms. His neck was, as always, adorned by the gold-like choker that bore the enormous lapis-Lazuli the size of a man’s fist, which he never removed. Beyond these things, however, he wore none of his usual adornments and little else besides a belt with a few secure pouches. He moved among the sea of people like a solitary and wandering island. Sammeln moved slowly and took in all that transpired around him, in silent and indirect observation. Nothing was catching his discerning eye, and he judged all things more harshly than normal, finding all things wanting. The warm sun beamed down on him heating his scales and warming the blood beneath. He allowed his great green orbs to close for a moment and stood completely still. He felt the river of people moving all around him but never coming close. Sammeln’s mind drifted in the darkness, simply feeling the sun warm his scales and for the first time in a great while, he allowed his ever calculating and appraising mind drift unguided. The first thing he heard, resurrected from a memory, was a surprised gasp, and a faint dripping…

    Sammeln’s eyes snapped open and his green orbs flicked in differing directions to find anything at all to look upon. He needed something to focus his mind again, something to find inferior and crush, or something of value to appraise, anything at all to pique his interest and distract his mind once more. His two eyes focused on the same point as his gaze was brought to the most unassuming of plots.

    It stood out, if for no other reason, because of its simplicity. The plot was little more than a blanket and a hand painted sign, amidst all these tents and stalls and stands. There sat a woman, her eyes were closed as his had been a moment before. She was half-elven, judging by her features, his ability to appraise her race so swiftly came from his frequent appraisal of slaves and soldiers of every race and creed. Her hair was brown and not of any recent fashion, and her clothes were baggy and ill fitting. She was clearly a pauper and Sammeln wondered if her tremendous plain-ness is what drew him to her, it was almost as if she were trying to be duller than the world around her; but that was preposterous, why would anyone want to disappear into the background… unless they were being hunted. Sammeln immediately knew how much he would pay for a such a creature on the slave auction, even judging by her possible medical knowledge in accordance with the sign for her plot and the aid she was providing to the disgruntled man she had left waiting as she had been drawn into the trance of the sun.

    Sammeln watched, judging from the two’s body language, as she attempted to refuse payment and it boggled his mind further. Someone with such meager standing, refusing wages for services rendered. The money that seemed to exchange hands was far too small a payment for the importance of the treatment rendered to a man of the customer’s station. It puzzled him and he decided that perhaps the man was poorer than that and she knew of it and had treated him out of kindness. He had seen such things happen from time to time, and read about it in books. He had done something similar on a few occasions; but only as a gateway to greater things. That man had no prospects of returning a greater favor to her at a later time, and if he did, he hid it well.

    Realizing that his large frame and wandering eyes might attract her attention, the reptile looked away, attempting to dismiss the negligible pauper and find something of greater interest to focus on. A nearby booth boasting “exotic” flowers served as a momentary distraction. While he loomed behind a few customers, he heard the distant song, and casually wondered if it was based on truth. If there was, he wondered if there would be a way to profit from discovering it. The thought was pushed aside as he approached the vendor of the stall, and looked with disdain at flowers his appraising eyes found to be of little worth, they were common flowers in other regions, and some of them had simply been feeding on dye.

    ”Your boast exotic flowers… impress me.” his deep voice made its simple command. Surprisingly the vendors, while not quite impressive, amused him at least. The husband of the flower saleswoman, was a blower of glass, and she procured from a hidden space beneath her display, a lilly made of clear glass. Its craftsmanship was not of excellent caliber, but when one considered the hands that made it, it was impressive. The price was more than reasonable, and so as a small token in appreciation of their ambition, he paid them without complaint and delicate flower was gingerly placed within his dexterous claws. The only red ophite took the glass flower and wrapped it in a silk cloth which he procured from and then returned to a pouch upon his belt.

    When he turned from the booth, he saw the plain woman, eyes closed to the sun once more. The song that had continued through his purchase, finally came to an end, and once more her eyes opened. Sammeln’s head had not been facing towards her, but one of his eyes had seen, and it slowly passed over her as if he had not noticed her, so she would not think he had been watching her, for surely he had not. However as his gaze casually passed her way again, he saw her looking directly at him.

    Three times she had caught his notice, perhaps there was a purpose to this. His own appraising instincts surpised him from time to time, so it seemed as good a reason as any to perhaps learn a bit more, or at least look at her, and her station more closely. His large reptilian head turned directly towards her, and his large emerald eyes, which often wandered in differing directions, both fixed on her as a single point. Purposefully he strode to where she sat and his shadow was cast over her and her wares, engulfing her whole person and all that she had laid before the world. He could not help but notice how small and insignificant she seemed, engulfed in his shadow. Sammeln knew with a single hand he could reach out and crush all her being, and by what she presented to the world, few would miss her, or curse him for it, and yet something had brought his attention to her.

    Sammeln offered a bow, not so deep as one he would offer to royalty; but enough to be more than she deserved, and polite. ”Greetings, healer, I am Sammeln Eidechse. Tell me, were you watching me because there was something you felt you could do for me, or was it something you feel I can do for you?” His deep voice rumbled the question forth almost as if a challenge and an offer at the same time. Now was her opportunity to ask for him favors, or impress him with her wares, or in the least, explain why she had been staring at him, though he suspected she stared for the same reason anyone stared when an ophite drifted through the affairs of civilized beings.
    Edited by Sammeln, May 23 2014, 10:29 PM.
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    Nevneni
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    Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.

    Nevneni saw him see her: his emerald eyes rolled in their sockets and locked on her. His long head turned slowly and she noticed in particular the way his nostrils fluttered with his careful breath. He turned his body towards her and began to walk. This must be what it felt like to stand frozen in the street, staring at a cart barreling down at you, hearing horse hooves pound the cobbles.

    His long shadow fell across her. It felt cold. Then his shadow slowly bent as his body allowed itself to fold in a graceful bow. As he straightened, his voice rumbled out of his chest, giving her his name: Sammeln Eidesche. She had not known it at the Empress' ball; she had not known much in those moments, except that prickling memory of all those belladonna berries bitter in her mouth. Then she had fallen in a faint and caused a lot of trouble, as she was sure she always did. Nevneni, too much trouble, distracting rich men in the streets with her prying eyes. Nevneni, rending Vorkael's old heart apart with her presence. Nevneni, who ran from home and returned years later only to have a a knife in her hand and blood spilling warm in the leaf litter under her back.

    Nevneni flushed, her cheeks quickly achieving a colour near that of her dress. She wanted to look away, but something about the Ophite's eyes struck her and kept her there, wriggling like a louse on a pin. Her mouth hung open for a second, wordless, and then the words came out in a sudden, uncontrolled rush: "I'm sorry! I didn't want anything, I just recognised you from Empress Isra's ball! Please, don't let me bother you, I didn't mean anything by it!"
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    Sammeln
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    Her terror annoyed him. It was painted across her face quite plainly. Sammeln immediately wondered what was wrong with him to have even momentarily been distracted by such a creature. In all his surroundings, he prized himself on being able to find the rarest and most unique flowers, so what had possessed him to give even a moments time to this…. weed. It was plain, small, and now its face grew darker in something akin to… embarrassment? Was this thing really so afraid of being noticed, or was it him? Some part of him was not yet ready to let his interest go, however, perhaps if one looked deeper, the weed was a rare sort.

    ”Hush now, little one.” his deep voice rumbled in a simple command. ”Take a breath, and control yourself, you have no need to fear me. I am but a merchant, like yourself.” comparing himself to so base a creature sickened Sammeln deeply. If not for the value the fleshy races put in humbleness and humility, he would kill someone for such a comparison, let alone make one himself. He was far more than a simple merchant, and that held even more true for this.... individual. Giving her a moment to do as he commanded his deep voice fumbled in as soft a tone as he could manage. ”We have attended the same social function, so already some grounds for association has been laid for us, be it ever so frail. You have seen that I am no monster.” Both his eyes fixed on her to urge this point to sink in, despite all evidence he gave to the contrary. Something about the terror in those eyes, the way she half froze half writhed as if his gaze caused her pain and dread, made her seem so vulnerable in a way that urged him to reach out and snap her neck to put the creature out of its pitiable existence, and he was having difficulty coming up with reasons not to, aside from poor public image.

    Still wondering what he could have possibly seen in this creature to be bothered with her at all. Sammeln decided to change tactics and see if the specimen would reveal the reason for him. ”Forgive me. Perhaps I have come on too strong and my intentions were misinterpreted. I have not yet learned your name, so I would say it is not too late to start again. This time try to think of me, as just another customer, who has come this way after noticing your…. “ Sammeln paused trying to find something worth catching anyone’s eye on this meager rag that served as her station in this fare. Seeing nothing worth noticing at all, he settled on the only thing unique to her cloth… “sign.” Sammeln wondered how it was possible this creature could afford to feed itself at all, with a business so dedicated to hiding in plain sight with its meager blandness.

    Taking a step back, Sammeln cleared his throat in a strange gravely cough, before bowing and introducing himself again. ”Greetings, healer, my name is Sammeln. Your station has intrigued me. Pray, tell me of your wares, and what manner of services you provide.” This childish playacting was beneath him, but the cringing female seemed to require such allowances to be kept from death of fright.
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    Nevneni
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    Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.

    Sometimes Nevneni had to heal the wealthy and they treated her much the same way as the Ophite did: as if she was a child or pet to be soothed with a pat on the head. Her normal response was to accept it and sometimes she half believed that the treatment was appropriate, given her low opinion of herself. Today, however, something in her struggled in the prison of her ribs, some smart retort that would sting across the Ophite's face. She had never been good at smart retorts, however, and most likely something stupid would come out, like a wild grunt or an insult about the Sammeln's mother.

    Nevneni tried to force herself to be less nervous and muddled up out of sheer defiance but she had never been able to force herself to feel thing, especially anything that was the opposite of anxiety. Still, she had the tiny, irritated part of her that wanted to point out that they weren't at all similar, given that he was such a great, wealthy merchant with Ophite acrobats and living dolls, and she was pretty much the scum on a stagnant pond. Somehow the insult to herself would have been an insult to him, though she wouldn't have been clear if she'd actually tried to think about it.

    She scrambled to her feet to introduce herself, throwing in an un-practiced curtsy for good measure. "I am Nevneni Lesten, humble healer and herbalist. I can patch up any sort of wound you might present me with and I can treat all sorts of illnesses. I have been all over this land and most know cures nature can offer." It was odd to think that she had technically not said anything untrue, though she made it sound like her travels were intentional instead of a quest away from anything and everything that happened in her mind. She thought she'd also managed to make it sound like she was passionate about her work, when really she did it more out of habit than love. "I also sell herbs for you to take home, should you want them, though I imagine you have all this and more already. But if there is any small thing I can help you with...?" She forced herself to look up at him, to keep her eyes on his face. Harder than this was the effort to look directly into his eyes, though she managed it somehow.
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    Sammeln
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    ”Better.” Sammeln voiced his mental critique almost dismissively. The way her dark brown eyes looked up at him… displeased Sammeln for some reason he couldn’t quite give a name immediately. Something about how she had managed to do it, despite his earlier appraisal believing this to be night impossible. It felt almost like defiance, which was intolerable from such a base creature as this pathetic specimen.

    Sammeln’s green orbs met her gaze unblinkingly wondering how long it would be before she could bear it no longer, or if perhaps she might not break under a stern gaze, as he had initially surmised. The massive merchant resisted the urge to grab her by the head in one arm and swing her about by it until her neck snapped several times. It still seemed like a pitiable creature that would be better suited dead than wasting time and space for others. So weak, something about the meager spectacle all around her, the way she had nearly dismissed payment for services rendered when she clearly needed it, and her cowering fear from before made Sammeln feel as if this woman might not even be certain whether or not her existence should continue. In the end, a sudden and merciful killing was avoided purely because it was too much effort for something of such little value.

    ”It is true, that there is nothing here that I do not have aplenty at home; but I am not presently at home, and when one travels things are sometimes overlooked.” While the statement by itself was true, this was because in the later half Sammeln had not directly stated he himself had overlooked something. He had the necessary resources, or a way to access them, for anything he might encounter, within a degree of reason. Still, it was a helpful segway to justify the exchange with this feeble and unassuming creature.

    Sammeln debated leaving, and just abandoning this entire interchange. It had yet to serve much purpose other than to frustrate and annoy the already irritable reptilian. Still, something had drawn him this way, and foolish as it might be, his pride in his ability to appraise, and notice things of worth, demanded that he find some small reason why he might have noticed such a bland creature. Perhaps an experiment? If she had so little value as he currently supposed, Sammeln wondered how much, by simple interaction, he could increase her worth in the eyes of others. How many might perceive her as more useful by seeing one as wealthy as he utilize her services, or would they avoid her further for having been so occupied by so fearsome an individual?

    ”Suppose, hypotheticaly, I were suffering from poor sleep, and a pervading sense of restlessness? What would you advise, and what could you do about it?” As he spoke his question, Sammeln wondered why he had chosen to voice a personal condition so close to the truth, rather than a hypothetical scenario to which he knew better, uncommon answers. Still what was done was done and the towering ophite awaited his answer.
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    Nevneni
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    Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.

    Apparently she had met some mark, for the man had allowed a terse word of approval to escape his scaly lips. This felt like some small success, but her heart strove for more, though she knew it was pathetic to seek the approval of another in this way. However, she intuited that simply being nice would not bring about the desired effect: she was supposed to kick and scream and bite against the grasp of his attention, she was supposed to show she had some life in her.

    Of course, the existence of such a force in her was entirely debatable. In some accounts of herself, she told herself that she had been dwindling since the day she was born. But then, in rare moments, she saw herself as pointless and struggling but hardily continuing on, like a weed springing up between cobblestones.

    Sammeln presented her with the question of insomnia and restlessness, and she wanted to smile at the answer that first came to mind. She suppressed the smile, though a hint of it lingered at the corner of her mouth, and replied with deadpan readiness: "Perhaps more exercise. Or perhaps it is not so simple, and the restlessness indicates that there is something lacking in your hypothetical life." A rare bloom of confidence opened within her. At least I am not like that, she thought as she ran a short catalogue of everything that was wrong with her, Not restless but tireless, perhaps. I wander for different reasons and get something done with it too. What has he done?

    After that brief, bubbling pause, she added, "But barring self-improvement and soul-searching, chamomile is always a friendly sleep aid. Passionflower, lotus and valerian all help. I do have a mixture of many such soporifics, not including opium of course. But sometimes sleep may cut off the growth of a plant trying to grow to fruition, one that just needs a bit of sunlight before its restlessness comes to mean something."

    She bit her lip, holding back a smile. Though she expected some heavy verbal blow to come from Sammeln, she allowed herself this moment of self-admiration. She sounded so eloquent for once! And eloquently, she had pricked at someone who thought himself great. For a moment she looked into his eyes, waiting for the lash that would come cracking from his mouth, wondering if she'd be able to withstand that too.
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    Sammeln
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    The sharp and ever scrutinizing eyes of the Ophite merchant did not miss the traces of an impudent smile lingering on this girl’s face as she began to give her advice. Her words forced the ophite to resist and instinctive scoff. His outwards pretence demanded he do so were one to ever suggest anything missing from his life; but to respond in this manner to a situation he had proposed as hypothetical, would tip his hand and reveal it to be true, a far greater source of gossip than the suggestion that his oppulent life might be bereft of anything.

    Instead the ophite was forced to rescind his judgments. There was something to be found here after all, something buried for reasons he could not fathom. This woman had some level of promise, that she withheld from the world to maintain her cloak of utter blandness. Despite her outward meek and fragile seeming, she had managed to be so bold as to say such things to him of all beings. Sammeln was not so unaware as to suppose this accomplishment was not all the greater for him being the target than it would have been had he been any other noble.

    ”Wise advice, and certainly a bitter pill to swollow were this situation anything more than hypothetical.” Sammeln flatly praised. ”Though I find your use of metaphor a bit obtuse, one can not fault you for attempting poetry.” The barb more intended to ensure his pride did not go wounded than it was for any real criticism.

    The towering merchant took a single stride back and offered a waist deep bow. ”I must apologize, it seems my initial assumptions of you have been found false. Your meager surroundings merely imply a creature in hiding rather than lacking true significance. I often look for hidden talents such as I suspect of yours, with whom I make arrangements, so tha-“ The sales pitch had only just begun, while the ophite attempted to determine a more effective test of this individuals skills, already preparing himself to add her to his collection of merchants on financial leashes, when a figure interrupted.

    The black and white clad humanoid in circus garb which revealed no section of skin, wore a mask which left no face to replace that which might be hidden beneath. The figure had woven through the crowd, drawing attention to itself by the occasional tumble or twirl as it moved with agility and grace. It planted itself close enough to be seen by both the healer and Sammeln, without directly standing between them and bowed with a flourish of one wrist, while the other extended a small scrap of parchment towards its reptilian master.

    ”Excuse me, business calls.” Sammeln stated tersely, before taking the note and reading it with one green eye, the other still fixed on Neveni as if it had not yet received the instructions to move on to other things. The ophite growled as he balled up the note in one massive fist. Then with a sigh, to even himself he turned back to face the healer.

    ”You are a healer yes? Then grab what you need and come with me, I urge you. There is someone in need of your care, and I dare not waste my time searching for another.” Sammeln gestured towards the silent acrobat before continuing. ”They, shal ensure your place is reserved for your return, and I can carry what you can not, if you have such things. Quickly now, will you aide my servant in distress?”

    The ophite waited for her answer, preparing to leader her to the great black and white tent which served as the staging area for his traveling acrobats, the faceless troupe, should she consent to assisting him.

    Internally, he had already worked out several contingencies if she refused; but he felt this would serve as an effective means to several ends, including a truer test of this modest healer’s abilities and potential.
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    Nevneni
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    Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.

    Nevneni's eyes widened in terror as Sammeln began to lay out the grounds for some sort of arrangement between them. Certainly it could be a perfectly innocuous proposal, but her mind screamed and closed its doors: she did not want to know. But then a figure appeared, interrupting Sammeln, though she didn't know whether this was lucky or terrifying, or it was a masked someone, dressed in black and white and moving with an eerie grace.

    Sammeln interrupted himself to look at the acrobat's note, then he crumpled it in his claws and, with the façade of a request, demanded Nevneni's help. It was the first time since the incident with the refugees that she ever considered running away from someone in need of help, though, to be fair, she had no way of being sure that it wasn't some sort of magical ruse to ensnare her and cage her in one of these "arrangements."

    But to help was her purpose in life, or so she had convinced herself. She nodded, stumbling out some sort of assent, and bent to gather her things, her mind whirling. Into her bag went some of the most useful herbs and concoctions – willow bark, arnica balm, a mix of purgatives and so on – and, while she was at it, she felt around in there, touching the sheathe of her hunting knife just to be sure that it was there. Hunching over the bag so as not to be detected, she pulled the knife up to the top of the bag, so that it was within reach. This done, she stood, swinging the bag onto her shoulder and nodding into Sammeln's eyes.

    As they left her spot, she spared one last glance for the odd being that, from implications in Sammeln's words, had no gender at all. That empty mask-face sent a shudder running up her spine, as if her body was trying to shake off the feeling of foreboding that had latched onto her. After a few moments of worming their way through the crowd, Nevneni asked, "What is the nature of this call? Do you know?"
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    Sammeln
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    The ophite watched the small woman almost hesitantly agree to help. In some inartulate statement of acceptance she grabbed a number of things, and then silently acknowledge she was ready.

    ”Make the way clear!” Sammeln boomed the order to the crowd as he turned and what little obstructions might stand before them were quickly moved aside. He measured his stride so that the shorter humanoid legs of the woman could keep up with him, without running too quickly to converse.

    Falling in line with a reasonable course of action, she asked questions about what had transpired. To be fair, Sammeln himself knew the end result but had no idea how it could have happened. Still the healer wanted to know what to prepare for, so Sammeln did his best. “If you have been traveling with this caravan long, then I assume you may have at least heard of the acrobats which are also part of this faire, as my personal contribution. If you have not seen them for yourself, you are truly missing a spectacular performance. I digress, I have been informed that one of them has been broken, that is to say been injured, and is in need of help.”

    The Ophite marched his way through the tent and stall lined streets, making his way to where the larger square had been cleared for displays such as his. The entrances to the large black and white tent were supposed to be guarded by more of the faceless masked figures, entertaining passersby with street performance to excite them for the show. Instead a few hastily gathered mercenaries stood in the way, a contingency plan that had been put in place in case something called all the members of the troupe away.

    Sammeln stopped a few paces before these guards and turned to face Neveni directly. “Before we enter, I must explain, this will not be like an ordinairy patient. These acrobats, and performers, are a very secretive and specialized group. Whether it is a vow or something more that prevents them, they never speak a word, and you must never attempt to look beneath their masks. You may speak with any of them; but do not expect an answer in words for you will not get one, no matter what.” That said he motioned the guards out of the way and held the tent flap open for Neveni.

    Within the massive black and white tent, within the empty ring of chairs, and standing space, was a tremendous gathering of the black and white clad figures in their faceless masks. Thirty at least, loosely gathered around a single point within the ring where they were to perform. When the two entered, they all looked up towards the arrivals, and when they saw who it was, a path was made.

    Many legends and rumors had circulated for years about Sammeln’s favorite faceless servants. The stories said they were ageless undying creatures, or some kind of magical constructs like living dolls. Still others claimed they were demons, or undead spirits all part of some bizarre assassin cult that used their performances as a way to maintain their skills. To the credit of the rumors, the faceless figures went to great lengths to put forth the appearance of lacking gender, or singular identities. Before a public eye, they were but toys for entertainment, and tools for Sammelns wishes. Wielding weapons and serving guests in the same silent way that they preformed before a crowd.

    However, within this stuffy tent, their private place, where they prepared for the coming evening, some of the mystique was lost. Bindings were relaxed, parts of costumes discarded. These were not machines, or living dolls. They were people, living breathing people, with others they cared about, and evidently capable of error.

    The thing they had been gathered around was one of their number. They’d fallen from a trapeze, which lay some feet away, the rope having snapped at both sides of the bar. Others seemed to be nursing sprains or bruises, but this was clearly the worst off. One of their arms was twisted at an odd angle and pinned under their body, one of their legs was similarly twisted and bent in a jarring and unnatural manner. Breathing that could be heard from beneath the mask was weak and uneven.

    Many had been kneeling beside the fallen, but when they saw Neveni, they stood and took several paces away. Some shielded their relaxed disguises as one might hide their nakedness; but none made a sound.

    “She is a healer, come to help.” Sammeln explained extending one large hand in a gesture for them to be calm and reassured. He then glanced toward Neveni and silently nodded his head towards the injured, urging her to go forward.
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    Nevneni
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    Asperges me hysopo, et mundabor: lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.

    Of course the Ophite had to make a big scene of his passing through. Nevneni skulked and cowered behind him, painfully aware of the eyes that slid from Sammeln's red scales to her face, glinting with curiosity and suspicion. Surely it was easier to slip through the crowd rather than demanding that everyone scramble out of the way. But then again, she thought as she looked at the towering lizard-man, when you were that tall it was surely hard to slip anywhere. That or his ego is so big that it needs a wide berth, she thought to herself, unable to help a little smirk.

    Sammeln went on to describe the situation; the oddity of it carved that unsure smile a little deeper into her face. "Broken?" she said, barely suppressing a little quiver of laughter in her voice, "I do not fix toys." She paused, a tiny gust of laughter blowing out her nose, before she returned to the subject with a greater seriousness: "Though truly, it may be that you'll have to find an actual bonesetter. I have learned some of the art, but when it comes to the most serious breaks, I cannot do the best work. But perhaps it will not be too bad...I do not think there have even been any bonesetters traveling with us...just me."

    The black and white tent rose abruptly before them, jarringly immaculate against the dust and greenery of springtime Madrid. Nevneni had indeed been vaguely aware of its existence while traveling with this group and she had seen those eerie masked people from time to time. Soon she was plunged in amongst them, seeing them as most never got to: unbound and relaxed, but as silent as ever, like a birdless forest. Nevneni's eyes fixed on the broken figure under the trapeze and she winced. She could easily deal with a broken arm, and that leg did not look too bad, but she would need a lot of help to fix it.

    Wordlessly she swooped down to the broken figure, carefully straightening out its twisted limbs so that she could work with them better. She then placed the person's hand on her own as she began to feel their arm. "Tap me when it hurts overmuch," she murmured, and in that way she felt her way around the acrobat's broken bones. When she knew them better, she eased some magic into their body, dulling the pain so that it would be bearable rather than outright excruciating. At this point, she called for someone to bring water, and tasked another with cutting up the comfrey roots she had found just the other day.

    Then she set out about the process of easing the muscle's in the person's arm; until the clenched muscles were relaxed, there was no way she could put the bone back into place. The acrobat's strength made this harder, and she felt like she had been working on them for ages before their tension decreased. She asked for some help, and the acrobat was held down. With some swift, brutal manouevres, she slipped the bones back into place. The acrobat did not make a single sound.

    The comfrey and water had been mixed to make a sludge: she packed this around the acrobat's arm, careful to avoid shifting the bone and pressing more magic into them so their muscles would stay relaxed. Then the same process began anew with the acrobat's leg. This, however, was much more laborious: leg muscles are stronger than arm muscles. Nevneni needed the help of several of the other acrobats to soothe those muscles, and even then, pushing the bone back into the place was a force of brute strength for all involved.

    Finally, the two comfrey plasters were packed in place and Nevneni had directed for a tea to be prepared for the acrobat so as to help them fight off a deadly fever. It was only then that she looked up, drawn out of the trance that her work had placed her in. She was sure how much time had passed; perhaps an hour or more, and she half-expected that Sammeln would have left to find some other entertainment. She looked around unsurely, feeling the tiny tentative knot in her chest that reminded her that, ridiculous as it was, she was eager to know what he thought of her work
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