Clearly as Crystal, Darker than Onyx
Egilrun existed on the blade's edge of oblivion. Going back as far as the time when Slag's Deep had defined it's destiny, the wealth flowing from that once prison mine, gems gathered by miscreants and misfits, monsters and malcontents for the edification of the Warden, it'd been nothing more than a door stop for that facility. A filthy flow running upstream of the depths of Slag's Deep. There was a vitality to it, no doubt, and in time it came to be known as a important trade hub, and center of the Glass Trade.
Woe wasn't entirely sure how that change had occurred, only that Liza had something to do with it, and Chamadarst.
He wanted to know more, but despite Chamadarst's vaunted clarity in all things, his motives remained as opaque as the darkest onyx nel. He didn't know what Chamadarst might want in exchange for the information that Woe sought. Or if Chamadarst even wished to part with it. He only knew what he had to offer. And that was mainly the wealth that he could generate, and the labors of his own mind. And the fact that he had no shortage of time to enact his will.
Woe could be patient.
Even so, in his experience, nothing cut so close to the bones of the truth as a sense of urgency. He could only wallow away in the waters of rumination so long before he got lost in its morass. He needed to talk with Chamadarst, and make plans, and possibly even a deal.
Woe stacked four nels in front of himself, on his desk. A well-appointed chair sat opposite him, unoccupied. Each of the nels in front of him represented a different denomination. In each their turn, he made them glass. He wondered if Chamadarst frowned upon such trifling displays of ritual. But then, what was a handshake? Or the nod of a head? Or the signing of a document if not that? This was a gesture that Chamadarst would understand, that his Exalted wanted to make a deal.
The place set for his patron, Woe waited. "Egilrun has been protected, time after time. I want to make an acquisition now, for the temple I wish to have built here. A temple where all of the Immortals are given their due, especially the ones that are balked at or acknowledged only as if to placate. A place where deals can be made with these Immortals, both small and large. Bargains to be struck, and tasks to be carried out."
Woe didn't want to waste Chamadarst's time, so he made clear what he wanted from the outset. He wasn't about to let Chamadarst waste his breath in the asking.