Ashan 27, Arc 721
He had, the son of Ziell considered, as he opened the door and stepped through it, never practiced alchemy in an extra-dimensional space before. He had worked in an underground laboratory in Etzos, and high above ground in Viden, and he had even brewed a potion in Emea with Llyr once, although he had decided not to drink any of it (He had been worried that a potion made that was from reagents that had just appeared in his dreamscape would affect him negatively.), but prior to coming to Faldrass he had never been in a place like this one.
A part of him could not help but wonder what it would be like to have an ability just like the one that Arlo Creede possessed, to create a camp that warded any dangerous creatures away and where a warm fire burnt all evening long. There had been a time when he had been perfectly happy in his laboratory or the library, brooding over books and making new inventions, but there was a certain curiosity about the world within him now, a curiosity that had started with an unexpected love story, and magic. He had no interest in being isolated and existing apart from mortalkind anymore, like he had done in the past.
For a moment, as he set his domain bag down on the floor and removed his alchemical tools from it, he allowed himself to think of a future where there would be no war anymore, and he would take a leave of absence from his work, travel the world of Idalos and try to uncover all of its mysteries, staying in a place just like this one, warm, comfortable and safe.
A moment later, he abruptly banished those thoughts – he had never been particularly wont to daydream, and he would not start to do so now – and decided to focus on the task at hand once more. There was a conflict that had to be resolved first, and there was a beacon that had to be built. The trial before, Xiur had visited Vega Creede and him and told them about a ship full of former slaves from Rharne that would arrive soon and that they needed to construct a beacon in order to guide them to the island safely.
He had proposed glass imbued with yellow sand for their beacon as it glowed in the dark and would enhance the light of the fire that burnt on top of the beacon further. A couple of arcs earlier, when he had still been a professor in Rynmere, he had invented a type of phosphorescent paint. He had used crystals back then, but sand worked just as well, maybe even better, and it was freely available. People just had to pick it up at the beach.
The sand was what he got next. Vega’s cousins had been asked to collect different kinds of sand a while earlier which was a fortunate coincidence. The bags of sand – and the large wooden tub that he had put them in and that he needed for his work – were heavy, or they would have been for most other people. He carried them into the camp that he had been allowed to use for the duration of his stay on the island with ease, although he had to admit that the tub was a bit unwieldy. Finally, he retrieved the most important part, apart from the sand – the glass panes that Vega’s cousins had acquired in Egilrun.
He carefully set them down and looked them over, inspected them for any cracks and other flaws, before he checked his tools and the rest of his materials and wiped the inside of the tub with a clean piece of cloth, thoroughly. He did not think that a grain of dirt or two would affect the result of his alchemy negatively, but he would not take any chances. This here was too important. The former slaves deserved a bit of safety, and hope.
Finally, he put on his protective gloves.
He had, the son of Ziell considered, as he opened the door and stepped through it, never practiced alchemy in an extra-dimensional space before. He had worked in an underground laboratory in Etzos, and high above ground in Viden, and he had even brewed a potion in Emea with Llyr once, although he had decided not to drink any of it (He had been worried that a potion made that was from reagents that had just appeared in his dreamscape would affect him negatively.), but prior to coming to Faldrass he had never been in a place like this one.
A part of him could not help but wonder what it would be like to have an ability just like the one that Arlo Creede possessed, to create a camp that warded any dangerous creatures away and where a warm fire burnt all evening long. There had been a time when he had been perfectly happy in his laboratory or the library, brooding over books and making new inventions, but there was a certain curiosity about the world within him now, a curiosity that had started with an unexpected love story, and magic. He had no interest in being isolated and existing apart from mortalkind anymore, like he had done in the past.
For a moment, as he set his domain bag down on the floor and removed his alchemical tools from it, he allowed himself to think of a future where there would be no war anymore, and he would take a leave of absence from his work, travel the world of Idalos and try to uncover all of its mysteries, staying in a place just like this one, warm, comfortable and safe.
A moment later, he abruptly banished those thoughts – he had never been particularly wont to daydream, and he would not start to do so now – and decided to focus on the task at hand once more. There was a conflict that had to be resolved first, and there was a beacon that had to be built. The trial before, Xiur had visited Vega Creede and him and told them about a ship full of former slaves from Rharne that would arrive soon and that they needed to construct a beacon in order to guide them to the island safely.
He had proposed glass imbued with yellow sand for their beacon as it glowed in the dark and would enhance the light of the fire that burnt on top of the beacon further. A couple of arcs earlier, when he had still been a professor in Rynmere, he had invented a type of phosphorescent paint. He had used crystals back then, but sand worked just as well, maybe even better, and it was freely available. People just had to pick it up at the beach.
The sand was what he got next. Vega’s cousins had been asked to collect different kinds of sand a while earlier which was a fortunate coincidence. The bags of sand – and the large wooden tub that he had put them in and that he needed for his work – were heavy, or they would have been for most other people. He carried them into the camp that he had been allowed to use for the duration of his stay on the island with ease, although he had to admit that the tub was a bit unwieldy. Finally, he retrieved the most important part, apart from the sand – the glass panes that Vega’s cousins had acquired in Egilrun.
He carefully set them down and looked them over, inspected them for any cracks and other flaws, before he checked his tools and the rest of his materials and wiped the inside of the tub with a clean piece of cloth, thoroughly. He did not think that a grain of dirt or two would affect the result of his alchemy negatively, but he would not take any chances. This here was too important. The former slaves deserved a bit of safety, and hope.
Finally, he put on his protective gloves.