After Orange Sand and Rainbow Shells.
Ashan 55, Arc 721
Spring had finally arrived on Scalvoris for good. Although a part of Doran almost needed to be surrounded by ice and snow – he had more in common with his Immortal father than he had used to think – another part of him could not help but marvel at the trees that bore fresh green leaves and stop in order to smell the spring flowers that began to appear everywhere. There was something encouraging about the return of warmth and sunlight, and life. A great catastrophe had taken place the arc before, and there were even worse things happening below the surface at the moment, unknown to most, but there was always a new tomorrow, and always a new hope.
Since he had first visited Faldrass, and Hopetoun, approximately thirty trials before in order to talk to Vega Creede about the Heart of Scalvoris, the volcanic island had occupied a special place in the Mortalborn’s heart. In Hopetoun he had found companionship, and perhaps something almost akin to friendship which was not something that he would ever take for granted. When he had last visited, their shared patron Immortal Xiur had appeared to Vega and him in order to give them a task, to build a beacon.
He was looking forward to lighting it soon – and to just seeing all the settlers again.
He had just unpacked – Vega and Arlo had allowed him to stay in their camp once more – and was on his way through the settlement in order to see what, if anything, had changed during his absence, inhaling the clean air that contained just a hint of saltiness – Hopetoun was located close to the sea – when small a group of settlers that was being led by a young blonde human woman approached him. They were all carrying pots or pans.
He remembered that the blonde woman who was carrying a big pot with two handles had been among the settlers that had learned how to use a sword from him. She had not been entirely without talent. She did not seem to be excited at all to see him though, he observed with a light furrowing of his brow. On the contrary, she seemed to be rather grumpy.
“Your alchemy made my friend and me ill”, she informed him in no uncertain terms while the other settlers nodded their heads in agreement. “It made us nauseous, and my friend got diarrhea on top of it, and it didn’t warm our food as much as you said that it would either. And see here – the paint is already coming off”, she continued before she proceeded to scratch the outer surface of the pot with a nail in order to demonstrate what she had said to Doran. The paint that was vaguely orange in color, he observed, furrowing his brow in a more obvious fashion, came off very easily.
“It was not worth the money”, the irritated woman told him and abruptly thrust the pot at Doran. The Mortalborn looked at it for a few moments, taking note of the color of the pot that was a bit off and of the fact that even the inner surface of it had been covered with paint.
“This is not one of my pots. I only painted the outer surface, and I only used natural reagents, for exactly that reason, to avoid health issues”, he finally pointed out in a firm tone of voice and lowered the pot again. “Besides, I never demanded any money for my pots. Mine were a gift, for the people of Hopetoun", he reminded her before he wanted to know,
“Do you remember where you get these pots from – and would anybody be willing to bring me one of the pots that I distributed on the 28th? I will prove that I did not make these here”, he offered politely.
Where others might have reacted with irritation at such accusations, he remained calm and composed. He understood the settlers' concerns - he might have reacted in a somewhat similar fashion had their roles been reversed and someone's alchemy had made him ill. He had to admit, he did not like the idea that there might be some sort of obviously talentless copycat that willfully endangered innocent people out there though.
Ashan 55, Arc 721
Spring had finally arrived on Scalvoris for good. Although a part of Doran almost needed to be surrounded by ice and snow – he had more in common with his Immortal father than he had used to think – another part of him could not help but marvel at the trees that bore fresh green leaves and stop in order to smell the spring flowers that began to appear everywhere. There was something encouraging about the return of warmth and sunlight, and life. A great catastrophe had taken place the arc before, and there were even worse things happening below the surface at the moment, unknown to most, but there was always a new tomorrow, and always a new hope.
Since he had first visited Faldrass, and Hopetoun, approximately thirty trials before in order to talk to Vega Creede about the Heart of Scalvoris, the volcanic island had occupied a special place in the Mortalborn’s heart. In Hopetoun he had found companionship, and perhaps something almost akin to friendship which was not something that he would ever take for granted. When he had last visited, their shared patron Immortal Xiur had appeared to Vega and him in order to give them a task, to build a beacon.
He was looking forward to lighting it soon – and to just seeing all the settlers again.
He had just unpacked – Vega and Arlo had allowed him to stay in their camp once more – and was on his way through the settlement in order to see what, if anything, had changed during his absence, inhaling the clean air that contained just a hint of saltiness – Hopetoun was located close to the sea – when small a group of settlers that was being led by a young blonde human woman approached him. They were all carrying pots or pans.
He remembered that the blonde woman who was carrying a big pot with two handles had been among the settlers that had learned how to use a sword from him. She had not been entirely without talent. She did not seem to be excited at all to see him though, he observed with a light furrowing of his brow. On the contrary, she seemed to be rather grumpy.
“Your alchemy made my friend and me ill”, she informed him in no uncertain terms while the other settlers nodded their heads in agreement. “It made us nauseous, and my friend got diarrhea on top of it, and it didn’t warm our food as much as you said that it would either. And see here – the paint is already coming off”, she continued before she proceeded to scratch the outer surface of the pot with a nail in order to demonstrate what she had said to Doran. The paint that was vaguely orange in color, he observed, furrowing his brow in a more obvious fashion, came off very easily.
“It was not worth the money”, the irritated woman told him and abruptly thrust the pot at Doran. The Mortalborn looked at it for a few moments, taking note of the color of the pot that was a bit off and of the fact that even the inner surface of it had been covered with paint.
“This is not one of my pots. I only painted the outer surface, and I only used natural reagents, for exactly that reason, to avoid health issues”, he finally pointed out in a firm tone of voice and lowered the pot again. “Besides, I never demanded any money for my pots. Mine were a gift, for the people of Hopetoun", he reminded her before he wanted to know,
“Do you remember where you get these pots from – and would anybody be willing to bring me one of the pots that I distributed on the 28th? I will prove that I did not make these here”, he offered politely.
Where others might have reacted with irritation at such accusations, he remained calm and composed. He understood the settlers' concerns - he might have reacted in a somewhat similar fashion had their roles been reversed and someone's alchemy had made him ill. He had to admit, he did not like the idea that there might be some sort of obviously talentless copycat that willfully endangered innocent people out there though.
Notes
This solo is a reaction to the following consequence given by Pig Boy in this review:
One of the settlers who observed Doran's work wasn't a settler at all, but a visitor from the mainland. He observed how the people seemed to enjoy the painted pots and plates, and hatched a scheme to paint old used pots and pans (he was a merchant of sorts) and sell them to the local villagers. Unfortunately, the paint sed was of low quality, didn't dry properly and led to one or two settlers getting ill. Some irate settlers have taken these faulty pots and pans to Doran, fully intent on showing him how 'his wares' had made them sick, and how the paint had chipped off improperly making them sick when they ingested the paint.
Of course, the man who sold the pots and plates made himself scarce as soon as the trouble was stirred, and boarded a longboat for the mainland before this issue came to light with Doran. How Doran reacts to this situation is his to decide, should he wish to act on it.
One of the settlers who observed Doran's work wasn't a settler at all, but a visitor from the mainland. He observed how the people seemed to enjoy the painted pots and plates, and hatched a scheme to paint old used pots and pans (he was a merchant of sorts) and sell them to the local villagers. Unfortunately, the paint sed was of low quality, didn't dry properly and led to one or two settlers getting ill. Some irate settlers have taken these faulty pots and pans to Doran, fully intent on showing him how 'his wares' had made them sick, and how the paint had chipped off improperly making them sick when they ingested the paint.
Of course, the man who sold the pots and plates made himself scarce as soon as the trouble was stirred, and boarded a longboat for the mainland before this issue came to light with Doran. How Doran reacts to this situation is his to decide, should he wish to act on it.
