Soft cool air, fragrant with the scent of fresh baked beds and pastries, washes over you like a balm. As the heavy door closes behind you and your eyes adjust to the velvety shadows, the cachophonous riot of a prosperous city fades only to be replaced by relaxed laughter and the gentle sounds of water falling from multiple public fountains.
Darkwood floors, buffed to a loving gleam, compliment the wcream walls and glow beneath floating globes of luminiscence. Large round stained glass windows block the harsh desert light and cast prismatic designs on the wood floor and opposite walls.
Circular scrollwork stairs of lusterous living metal lead up to the platforms of varius heights. Beads of polished green noqual twinkle with pale green light within the scrolling metal.
Translucent silk floor length veils, of deep jewel tones, hang from delicately arching frames, partitioning each table and giving the guests privacy from tables on higher landings.
Large, plush armchairs are evenly spaced around circular tables of various sizes. These sturdy tables are made of buffed obsidion and rose quartz with thin pale green noqual swirls.
Small fountains accompany each landing providing refreshingly cool and pure water to slake a travelers thirst. Permanent prestidigitation of clean and purify food and water radiate from each fountain. A cold stone in the form of a bauble twirls at the font of each fountain, keeping the water refreshingly cool. From time to time, the owner refills the fountains from a decanter of endless water.
A carved sign hangs on slender chains a few feet inside read in the Common tongue:
Come In and Be Welcomed Pathfinders! But Leave Your Bad Attitude Outside with the Trash Where It Belongs~
Currently Hiring, Feel Free to Start! Meals Included~
A plaque is attached to the main fountain, the script flowing like molten gold (anyone who's seen The Secret of Nimh, it's Nicodemus' gold writing) that reads:
The Touch of the Master's Hand
'Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A copper, a copper," then, two! Only two?
"Two coppers, and who'll make it three?
"Three coppers, once; three coppers, twice;
Going for three..." But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bid for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand gold, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice;
And going and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed its worth?" Swift came the reply:
"The touch of a master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like the old violin.
A "mess of potage," a glass of wine;
A game-- and he travels on.
He is "going" once, and "going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
- Former Slave of a True Master.
Edit Button was missing on my original thread or I'd just have edited it there T.T
Poem is adapted from Myra B. Welch.
My very first incarnation was as a beautiful Taldorian Voidwalker/Bard! Now, in theory it was a wonderful idea~ But when I was executed in practice... my core mentality and soul is simply not one that hangs out in the back and offers Support... I am naturally inclined to wade into the middle of things, to use tricks to foil my opponents and feel steaming blood of my opponents gush from a critical wound... of giving as good as I give... of healing my comrades as we stared down death and leave not with a whimper, BUT A SHOUT!!! yet... to contribute with as much of an educated hand as an educated mind.
In other words, I felt completely and utterly useless. The shock of death on a surprise round lasted all of 5 sulking minutes. Dang Hobgoblins >.>' I am glad that it happened at a level I could not resurrect at. Or I would have been stuck and never been exposed to the wonders of my second Incarnation... An Osirion Lore Warden! Perfect fit~
Sadly I do not have access to a scanner to upload my drawn characters but will at a later date!