Online Session Recap - 09.11.2018

Tylendel meditates in his chamber in the temple on the Holy Hill, intending to try to reach Ipeshtir Aqisdirmaq, a strange fellow he met the very first time in the Between, outside the Dying Keep.
Focusing, Tylendel feels well rested which gives him the capacity - and the need is getting greater and greater - and suddenly he feels himself somewhere else. The air moves around him, unlike the air in his chamber. Rain patters on him. He opens his eyes to see a grey and hazy world around him. He is on a slope of rocks, grass growing between them. He hears something heavy sway, somewhere - perhaps a rope, or a chain.

He gets on his feet and begins exploring, but suddenly the slope becomes very steep and he realizes, when a gust of wind meets him from below, that he is on a tiny island in the sky, a grey abyss yawning below. Then he sees the source of the sound he heard - it looks indeed like a sort of rope or chain suspended from this island into the haze.
Tylendel tries to use his will to dispel the haze, and manages to make it less hazy around himself - and also noticing he was just a meter away from falling off the island. Moving toward the ropes or chains he sees it is a wooden bridge, the ropes serving as handholds. He also sees more rocks, large and small, suspended in the air around him.
Curious enough to dare the bridge, Tylendel moves out onto it, the ocean far, far below - it looks like Tylendel is in the realm where he met Ipeshtir. Birds shriek from the surrounding haze, and he notices that many of the islands around him are coated in white.

He reaches the other side, where rusted bolts are hammered into the bedrock, to which the bridge is attached. He sees he is on a larger island, but there is what looks like a path around a cliff, and he sees it leads to another bridge - this archipelago in the sky is connected by many of them. He sees bird nests, and a strange-looking growth on the cliffs, reminding him of intensely green cabbage.
He hears something - it sounds like hacking. It turns out to be a man, suspended by rope along a steep cliff, busy hacking off and pulling off bundles of the cabbage-like plants and putting them in a large bag dangling from his back. Tylendel crosses another bridge. It rains a little more now.
The fellow wears a wide, pointy hat, now hanging on his back.
“That looks like a precarious position,” Tylendel says.
The fellow is startled and turns to face Tylendel; the man’s skin is similar in tone to Ipeshtir’s, but it is not him; this one has a mustache and wears a knee-length tunic of blue wool. He gives Tylendel a curious look.
“H-hello!”
“My pardons for startling you, but I’m somewhat lost, could you tell me where I am?” Tylendel asks.
“What are you?”
“A traveler.”
“You’re not from Ilk.”
“Indeed, I’m not.”
“One moment please, one moment.”
The fellow hoists himself up the cliff, then reappears from the other side of the flying rock they’re on. The two are of equal height. He bows deeply.
“Greetings, stranger, so you are lost. Well, how can I help you?”
“Well, where am I?”
“You are quite close to Yungul Goz, is that where you were going?”
“No, I was heading to Muqed Fevre.”
The fellow looks nervous and skeptical. “Muqed Fevre? Why would you seek him?”
Tylendel thought Muqed Fevre was a place. “Now that’s… interesting. But I was told..he…could help me with some translations, that’s all I know.”
The fellow looks at Tylendel’s scabbarded sword, still nervous. “I’m afraid I want nothing to with Muqed Fevre, but if that is who you seek, you will find him in Yungul Goz. His palace is there.”
“How do I reach Yungul Goz?”
“You don’t know the way? Ah, that’s why you are lost of course. Well, you will have to follow the bridges,” he points along one bridge, “It’s some ways off, in that direction. I am but a lonely harvester of deryaye, and I have to bring my catch home. But if I can do that first, I can show you the way until the first signs show up. Once there you will find the rest of the road yourself.”
“I wouldn’t want to get you involved in something you don’t want to…”
“No, it’s fine. I just stay far away from Yungul Goz. But my wife makes a mean deryaye tea, you could come with me?”
“I’m afraid I’m in a hurry,” Tylendel says.
That seems to surprise the man. “In a hurry? Go around this rock, and follow the bridges.”
Tylendel concentrates and tries to take flight, but somehow it doesn’t work.
“I thank you,” he says to the fellow, and then Tylendel leaves the man.

Alone again, Tylendel begins the long walk toward Yungul Goz. He sees the birds clearly now, with great wingspans and long, elegant necks. Tylendel thinks that he has at least one of his questions answered - whether Muqed Fevre was a man or a place. The landscape remains dream-like; the rain finally stops, and the haze disperses and Tylendel sees he is truly in a strange place with countless boulders and islands in the sky, more than he could imagine. Peasants climb these rocks, gathering deyaye. Some of them help point Tylendel in the right direction. At one point, Tylendel sees a massive squid floating between the isles of the sky, its tentacles trailing behind. It settles on a boulder, its tentacles wrapping around it. There are also spirit-like beings around, it seems. Thin spires of rock disappear into the heavens above - and at last, beyond all the strangeness, Tylendel meets something as mundane as signs with unreadable - for Tylendel - language.
After a while, the smaller rocks and islets disappear and the islands become larger, with greater surfaces, and buildings begin to appear. On one such huge landmass he sees a lake surrounded by buildings, square houses with straw roofs. Crossing the island he comes to yet another bridge, and he continues on. At last he sees in the distance an extremely large landmass floating in the sky, and coming closer he begins to see the outlines of towers and spires on that island - it is the city of Yungul Goz.

In the air between the islands he notices boats. Some vessels are leaving and some are arriving at the city docks - piers jutting out over the sea far below. The city is majestic where it bathes in the pink-red light of the afternoon sun. Great chains are suspended between islands, keeping them together. He sees men in small boats sailing through the air, using poles to push rocks away from the city. A great palace dominates the area near the docks. Great sailing galleys are docked as well as smaller vessels. There are many people about in this dream-like city. At last he finds a broad bridge that takes him across the sky to Yungul Goz. He recognizes the guards flanking the bridge - they are similar to the stoneman who tried to capture him at some other place in the Between - faceless sentinels of rock.

Yungul Goz is a hodgepodge of architectural styles. The city has a peculiar scent, reminding Tylendel of cinnamon. Voices and the creaking of ropes and wood dominate the soundscape; Yungul Goz is a living city, a sharp contrast to ruined Black Bormost. He sees warehouses, cargo loaded and unloaded, a diversity of clothes on the people, a large ship leaving the docks, its captain shouting, people on deck working the sails as it speeds upward; a flock of bird follows it.

Tylendel looks for the Ghostweave, Ipeshtir’s ship. He wanders toward what looks like a marketplace. Most people are dark-skinned and black-haired. He sees bartering, strange coins exchanging hands, haggling merchants and customers. Most people that he sees are unarmed - patrols of stone sentinels do appear regularly around the corners, so maybe weapons are deemed unnecessary. Even the oxen are strange in Yungul Goz, with hairless faces and large horns protruding horizontally from above their eyes.

Tylendel walks over to what looks like a café. A pair of old men with gray beards are sitting at a table outside the building, drinking tea. Their shoes are curiously long.
“Pardon me, gentlemen. I am looking for a certain ship. Is there a harbormaster nearby?”
They look at him for a while, then at each other.
“Hello there, beautiful young man,” one finally says. “The harbormaster would reside right behind us.” He points at a massive building nearby, a building that seems to defy gravity in its size and splendor. “He might not have the time for you, just so you know, he is a very busy man. If you should be unlucky, come and have a cup of tea with us. Good luck.”
Tylendel thanks them for the offer, then walks toward the harbormaster’s office, then changes his mind, and walks toward the docks to look for the Ghostweave again.
There’s something wrong here, Tylendel thinks. Everybody is so… relaxed.

To his surprise, he actually sees Ipeshtir’s small ship, partially hidden by larger nearby vessels. But the people aboard are unfamiliar. A burly man wearing a sash and a saber is standing on the deck giving orders to what looks like two sailors. Tylendel does notice that the ship’s name has been recently painted over.
“Excuse me, I had a knock on the head earlier and I can’t read. What’s the name of that ship?” he asks a passerby, a fellow in a cloak of a hundred rodents.
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard. But it says Maggot Betty.”
“But what does it say underneath that name?”
“What?”
The stranger squints and also notices the paint hiding letters. “Looks like.. Ghost-something?”
“You’re not from Ilk, are ya. From some of the other places. I’m a furrier, you can usually find me on the islands of Vykalka Zazam, or thereabout. Would you buy a new pretty cloak for a pretty lord?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welco—”
Tylendel walks over and onto the pier where the Ghostweave is docked.

Tylendel decides to find his way up to the massive palace looming over the harbor district. He eventually finds his way up the stairs leading to the two entrance doors. Halfway up the stairs he sees two men discussing with each other. Stone sentinels flank the two doors that are closed.
One of the two men wears a strange hat looking like a conch. He passes them and reaches the doors, not knowing how to proceed; he sees no bell to ring. The doors are absolutely massive - five meters tall. Strange stone-carved creatures occupy the wall above the doors.
“Excuse me,” someone says behind him - it is the man with the conch hat - “Can I assist you?”
“I’d like to see Muqed Fevre. How do I go about doing that?”
“Ah, I’m Ibrim Sark, one of the attendants of this palace. I can tell you that the honorable Muqed Fevre is very busy this year. What kind of business do you have with him, stranger, and may I have your name?”
“My name is Tylendel Greyoak. I seek knowledge. I am a visitor from Eras.”
“I’m afraid I have not heard before your name, nor heard of your home. I find your goal somewhat vague. Knowledge can be so many things.”
“I’m trying to kill Parafor.”
The man frowns at that. “Well, I am sure you, ah, will find a way to deal with that. But you can petition for an audience, of course. I cannot disallow you that.”
“Are there so many visitors from the Empire of the God-kings that no one would see me?”
“Everyone demands Muqed Fevre’s time. He is, after all, the master of the guild.”
“The guild of what?”
“Why, the Guild of Merchants of Yungul Goz. I can take you to my office and sign a petition. But I warn you, the waiting list is quite long.”
Tylendel ponders what to do.
“Does the name Ipeshtir Aqisdirmaq tell you anything?”
The man smiles coldly. “What of him?”
“He was the one that said he would bring my papers to master Muqed Fevre.”
“Papers?”
“Yes, for translation.”
“Ah. Well, Ipeshtir Aqisdirmaq no longer works for Muqed Fevre.”
“Is that because of those papers?”
“I would not assume so.”
“I really dislike liars, my friend.”
“And I dislike people who come with vague threats.”
“I haven’t threatened anyone.”
“You implied that I was lying and that you didn’t like that. What would be the next step?”
“No, I told you you are lying. And I do not like liars—”
“How uncouth.”
“I believe I could cut out your eyes before those stone things could catch me.” He places his hand on Howler’s hilt.
The man’s face reddens. “I think we are done here.” He turns and walks down the stairs, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

(Siste del ikke ført enda: Fra 00:49:22.)

(Siste del fra 49:22 - ført kun fem måneder seinere 0_o)

Tylendel begins focusing on casting a spell, trying to have one of the stair’s marble steps “swallow” one of the man’s feet if he steps on it. Unaware, the man steps into the groove Tylendel has created, the stone flowing around his foot as if mortar suddenly hardens. Faltering and almost falling, the man exclaims “What is going on here?”
Then he yells for the guards. Turning to Tylendel, he screams, “What do you want from me?”
“The truth,” Tylendel answers calmly.
“Let me go immediately or I’ll have the guards… crush you into pulp!”
“What have I done?”
“You have used foul sorcery against me!”
“I find that very unlikely.”
“So the stair just decided to keep me standing here?”
“Perhaps they don’t like liars either.”
“Idiot. I have not uttered a lie.”
“Why doesn’t Ipeshtir work for the guild anymore?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then tell me what you think.”
“All right, all right. Maybe there is something to your words. He was, ah, sold quite quickly after he came here with those…I think it was a book or something. Let me go, and I’ll let you live.”

Tylendel notices stone sentinels approach. He releases the spell, and the man’s foot comes free.
“Thank you,” he snarls. He gestures toward the guards of stone and they return to their posts.
“You could have told me you’re a sorcerer.”
“I tend not to tell anyone.”
“Foolish.”
“So is lying.”
The man walks away, wiping sweat from his brow.
“I think I know what book that is,” Tylendel says. “Would Muqed Fevre be interested in seeing it?”
“Why would he? Why would I risk his ire…? All right, I can see if I can arrange a meeting for you. Put you on the list. First on the list.”
“Excellent!”
“But I warn you, but if you do something like that again to an official scribe of the Merchant’s Guild you will be severely punished.”
“Do you think your golems will be able to touch me?”
“We’ll see.”
“Let’s not try.”
“I’ll have an answer for you within an hour.”
The scribe walks up and one of the sentinels opens the door for him and he disappears.
Tylendel sighs.

Picking up Shadowbreaker, Tylendel sits down on the stair pondering and wondering, worried for Ipeshtir and Pábes. In the garden at the foot of the stairs he sees bushes and benches.

An hour passes. The view is splendid; the docks in the air, the ships leaving and arriving, gliding through the air, the distant chained islands, the extremely varied architecture of Yungul Goz.

At last the dour fellow with the strange headwear returns. Tylendel gets up on his feet. The man looks very unhappy. Promising.
“The master is interested in seeing you. Follow me.”
“Thank you kindly.”
Tylendel returns Shadowbreaker to its pouch and follows, taken into an opulent and beautiful palace with wide hallways, huge domed chambers, rich ornamentation. The floors are extremely well polished, and look like they are made out of gemstone.
A wide reddish marble stair leads up. Rows of stone sentinels stand guard. A small door, part of huge door, is opened.
In a grand hall with a gilded dome massive beautifully carved pillars rise. Tylendel can see the ceiling and himself reflected in the floor, like a dark mirror.
The hall ends in three steps covered by a busily patterned carpet leading up to a throne of sorts. Standing on the dais, the throne has rounded armrests and a very long back. Two golden horn-like protrusions loom above it. Behind the throne Tylendel sees one huge door flanked by two smaller doors.
A figure appears from one of the smaller doors. It is a woman, her face covered by a transparent veil with dark eyes and brown skin. Her gown is decorated with numerous small, valuable ornamentations. Two sentinels stand guard between Tylendel and the throne. The woman sits down in the throne, looking very small in the great seat.
The scribe prostrates before her, showing his respect. “Here he is.” He crawls backward away from the throne, then rises and leaves the hall, leaving Tylendel with the woman on the throne. Her clothing is transparent enough to reveal her round breasts with dark brown nipples. She is beautiful, but she wears no discernible expression. Tylendel bows.
“Speak, stranger from Eras.” Her voice is dark and feminine, and there’s a strange sonorous quality to it.
“I came looking for Ipeshtir.”
“Ipeshtir Aqisdirmaq. A once respected member of the Merchant’s Guild of Yungul Goz.”
“I rescued some papers from Bojaqi which he said he would bring to Muqed Fevre for translation.”
“These documents you claim Ipeshtir Aqirdirmaq brought to this palace - whence your knowledge? Are these documents yours?”
“As I said, I rescued them from Bojaqi.”
“And?”
“Ipeshtir suspected they might have something to do with summonings and banishments, something I’m interested in because I’m doing my best to kill Parafor.”
“This does not relate to the business of the Guild, and as such I deem it unnecessary to divulge any information.”
“The book Ipeshtir brought, was it the Codex of the Lost?”
“Do you have any other items of business you wish to conclude?”
“Parafor, Braek, Ruís, Nysal, Pentarlys, Tessalon, Gaffon…they ran from something when they came to Eras. Who did they run from?”
“Your inquiry is noted but it has no relation to the business of the guild.”
“How strong are your sorcerers?”
“Do you wish to hire one?”
“No.. But I may be acting from despair and I’d like to know if they can kill me before I destroy this city.”
“Your statement has been noted. Do you threaten the wellfare of the people of Yungul Goz?”
“Ah, fuck it, no. I don’t do that. But Parafor is destroying my world. And I think that will have impact on your world as well. Not just the Guild. All of the Between.”
“You may have noted this world is already destroyed.”
“And I suspect it was done by the same creatures…”
“Your inquiry is noted.”
“What is Candathí ore?”
“Your inquiry relates to the business of the guild. Do you wish to buy supplies?”
“I know of a significant supply of Candathí ore but I need to know what it is.”
“It is a rare, red ore that once was found in the realm known as Candath. It is valuable for its properties. The Merchant Guild of Yungul Goz does trade in Candathí ore but the price is steep. Do you wish to buy supplies of Candathí ore?”
Tylendel is silent for a while. “No…”
“Your statement has been noted. Is there anything else the Merchant Guild of Yungul Goz can help you with, sir?”
“Oh, I believe there’s a lot you could help me with, but you’re unwilling.”
“Your statement has been noted.”
Tylendel gestures at the woman in the throne. “This… thing…is it to put people at ease? Do you use the same when women come as well?”
“I’m impressed with your perception. I do indeed use proxies. This is to alleviate the fear of those who are granted an audience.”
“What do you think will happen with Ilk if Eras is destroyed?”
“It will be a time of upheaval, as we will need to ward off the debris. And find a way to accommodate yet another world.”
“Weeks. You may not have more than weeks.”
“Your inquiry has been noted.”
“And still you refuse to help me.”
“You have not asked for help.”
Tylendel tilts his head. “I have asked for information.”
“What information do you require and how does it pertain to the business of the guild?”
“How do I kill Parafor? If he is victorious in Eras, Eras will be destroyed. There are more children of Ilk who are converging on the same place of power.”
“One moment please.”

The figure rises, swings around the throne and disappears into the small door it used to enter. Tylendel is left standing in the grand hall, his mirror image upside-down in the image on the floor. Gems glitter around him like stars in the night sky. Time goes by, but eventually the large door behind the throne grinds open and a three meter tall figure appears, wearing a white long robe with a white hood. A long, braided black beard goes down to the figure’s ankles, the braid fat as a ship’s rose. In the face glitter two dark eyes. The figure settles in the throne, and now it’s size seems right.
“I am Muqed Fevre, master of the Merchant Guild of Yungul Goz. I rarely, very rarely, show myself.”
“I am honored. I am Tylen—”
“No, you are not. But it does not matter. I say this only to explain. Since you had to endure my proxy.”
“The people fear you?”
“Shouldn’t they?”
“Just a bit tall.”
“Even in a place like this, where you can see the strangest things every day, there are things that can cause fear in people’s hearts. I have no use for people thinking of me as a big brute.”
“I suspect I have a dagger forged by one your kin, one Gablug Maístor, do you know his name?”
“I do recognize the name from ancient legends, yes.”
“And the other names I mentioned? I suspect you know them as well.”
“Some of them are also known to me.”
Tylendel sighs. “I am sitting on a place of power, in Eras. I know that Parafor is coming, I suspect Ruís is, well he is hiding, but I suspect he is close. Arokin may be on his way. Loronë, she’s coming. I guess Nysal and Pentarlys are coming as well. I don’t know if Gaffon will show up. What will happen if one of them gains that power? Parafor says he wants to destroy everything…so how do I stop him?”
“I understand your quandary. Nobody likes to see their world destroyed. Alas, I am not that well-versed in the manner of these people. I know they disappeared, I know they found another world, and I assume that’s where you come from. But I did find it interesting when Ipeshtir Aqisdirmaq appeared with these ancient notations. And so I—”
“You made sure he didn’t tell anyone.”
“Well no, I dismissed him for ignoring the rules of the guild. The iron rules of the guild. But I spared his life, in exchange for that book.”
“The Codex of the Lost?”
“That’s what he called it. The little one.”
“And where is Pábes?”
“Somewhere around, I imagine. We sold Ipeshtir and tried to sell the little man at the auction hall a few weeks ago. Quite a few hands for Ipeshtir, alas, no one was interested in buying the little one. So I wondered what to do and… I let him go. The third one gave us the best price. It’s not often you can sell a living corpse at the auction.”
“The Crow-king has several of them.”
“The Crow-king? Is that some lord from your world?”
“Well, he does get about.”
“So. What do you offer for the book?”
“Nothing.”
“I see. Then I suppose our business is concluded.”
“What do you offer for my translations?”
“What do you want?”
“What could I want? Good question.”

Tylendel focuses his willpower on trying to summon one of the cylindrical cannisters of Candathí ore from the Crow-king’s citadel. He tries to remember texture, shape, color. Suddenly such an item begins materializing on the floor before Tylendel, weaving into reality, and Muqed Fevre’s eyes widen considerably.
“What are you doing?” the Fevre asks, watching. The cylinder doesn’t become fully material, but seems far more substantial than, say, a spirit.
“It does look like a Candathí ore cannister, why do you show me this?”
Tylendel concentrates, trying to bring the cannister more fully into being, but fails.
“I thought it might be of value to you.”
“You want to buy my translations for Candathí ore? I’m sorry, my friend. You cannot offer me anything like that. I have everything already. There is nothing material I need.”
“Then what can I offer for those translations?”
“I just needed some time to judge you, my friend. You shall have the translations.”
A door opens, and a stone sentinel comes marching in, heavy stone feet stomping. It holds a chain. At the other end manacles hold a dirty, small monk.
“It’s all inside there,” Fevre says and points toward Pábes. The little man’s eyes widen at the sight of Tylendel.
“It’s good to see you again,” Pábes says to Tylendel.
“You too, my friend.”
“I have learned so much,” Pábes whispers. “I will help you, I promise.”
Tylendel nods to the Fevre, who is watching them and looking doubtful.
“You said weeks?” Fevre asks Tylendel.
“Possibly less. The army is about ten days away. I assume Parafor will be there when it arrives.”
“I shall tell you this. When Ipeshtir’s servant was sold, Ipeshtir wept so loudly that the buyer felt pity and bought him as well. The one who bought them is named lord Duguzad. He owns a manor on an island not far from here. He paid well. One hundred and fifty kins for Ipeshtir and two hundred kins for the corpse. Our audience is at an end.”
Muqed Fevre rises and leaves the hall.
The stone guard leads Tylendel and Pábes out and eventually they find themselves out on the stairs. Pábes stretches. “Ah. I’m so glad you came.”
“I’m sorry it took so long.”
“Not that long. Let’s go get the book.”
“I thought the book was inside.”
“Come on!”
Tylendel follows the little monk.