Out of Character:
Closed to Pavel.



A doorway appeared in the middle of an intersection of two paved roads. Passing dark elves and dwarfs gave the strange door odd glances, but no one stopped to pay it real mind. It was made of simple oak, with a brass knob and hinges connected to nothing.

The door opened, and out stepped Jake Narmolanya. Or rather, through stepped he. The soothing natural smells of the forest Concordia were obliterated by the rank odors of machinery so familiar in Alerar. Jake wrinkled his nose and pulled his black silk scarf up over his freckled cheeks. He allowed the doorway to dissipate and looked around. He was the only half elf on the street, and the only one wearing green. The Alerians seemed to prefer blues or drab shades of grey. Jake shrugged his shoulders beneath the cutting straps of his haversack and shifted the weight around on his narrow back. He took a moment to orient himself using the convenient metal street signs and then strode off.

The sky frowned hazily, sunlight obscured by a thick layer of smog. Jake had been in Ettermire recently on the hunt for a Crystal Sword, and seeing the amount of sick folk had drawn at his heart. In his haversack he carried something that the relief movement would find highly useful. The half elf smiled at all around him as he made his way from block to block. His short blond hair curled out from beneath his floppy canvas cap. His sea green eyes scanned the concrete buildings, admiring the intricate architecture. His leather boots skirted mud puddles, for the warm winter with regular melts had left the streets a mess.

Before long Jake found the building he sought. It stood tall and narrow, almost a tower, made from more of the concrete the Alerians seemed so fond of. The rounded windows looked in on a tidy lobby with a woman sitting at a desk. Jake walked in and right up to her, giving her the Jake smile with both barrels.

"Pleased t'meetcha," he said, leaning on the desk, "I'm Jake. Is this the offices for the Alerian pollution relief centers or whatever?"

"The Alerian Relief Coalition? Yes," she said with a small smile and a shake of her head. Her long dark hair shimmered, her purple skin and pointed ears particularly attractive.

"Well I heard you folk were in need of spidersilk respirators," Jake said, shrugging off his heavy haversack, "and I don't know how to make respirators, but..." he plunked the bag down on the desk and opened its drawstring. Within gleamed piles and piles of spidersilk, which could be found in abundance in Concordia, where the continent-hopping half elf lived.

"This... is amazing!" The Alerian woman said, pressing one hand over her mouth while the other felt the silk in the bag. "We'll be able to fashion many respirators out of this. Thank you, Jake. How can we repay you?"

"You can tell me how else I can help," Jake said with a smile, "but first, you can tell me your name."