Hiding In Plain Sight

[Bleater]

Closed, Solo

To the casual viewer, it might look a little strange. A goat, sitting upright on a stone slab, one hindleg crossed over the other, looking carefully at large sheets of parchment. A single glass lens is set against his left eye as his deep yellow eyes slowly drift over the details on the pages in front of him. With a sigh, he moves his left hand from the parchments, letting them fan down into a small stack in his lap. Reaching up with a cloven hoof, he pinches the lens between the two sides of his split hoof and pulls it from his eye. Tucking the moncole in his vest pocket, the Caprian's tongue slips from his mouth as he licks his lips.

Hmmm... I do believe a spot of lunch is in order...

Behind the goat rises a large, impressive building of dark cement trimmed with onyx slats and a large black marble doorway. Above a large mohagony doorway is carved a single word: Kennis. While having a less extensive collection than Ankhas, this library is also smaller and used less frequently. It also isn't as closely watched, exactly the reason that William prefers it. Pushing the parchments off of his lap to rest beside him, the goat leans to the side towards the leatherbound satchel sitting to his left. Grabbing hold of a strap on the front between his teeth, he tugs it free to loosen the flap of one of the pouches. Nudging it open, he bites down on a small bundle of white cloth that barely sticks out, pulling out something round and fist-sized, wrapped in a handkerchief.

The stale, humid smell of steam and smoke that normally lingers in the industrious city of Ettermire is gone to him, replaced with a starchy and slightly sweet aroma eminating from the small parcel. From around the corner of the library, a set of black eyes falls on the strange creature that is William Steinbock. The eyes watch as the goat carefully nips at the ends of the handkerchief; the ends slip free like petals opening on a blossoming flower. Inside is revealed a bulbous root that starts white and fades gradually into rich purple. Leaning his snout down, William nudges the roasted turnip and notes that while it had been steaming when he placed it in his satchel, it's now only mildly warm. Still, a slight grin of satisfaction curls along his mouth.

Lovely. The leather held the heat in better than I expected. How I do loathe a cold lunch.

Reaching down with both hooves, he pinched the vegetable between them, struggling a bit to grip it effectively. The eyes were still watching him closely, as the head of a drow child peeked around the corner. It had ashy tan skin that looked like it was stretched a bit too tightly across it's face, faint wrinkles forning under his sharp cheekbones. Spindly grey hairs were slicked straight back over the young dark elf's head like thick strands of spider webbing running in a heavy mat over his skull and running down his back. He watched the creature intently as William carefully maneuvered the turnip up to his snout. With snap of the teeth, a mouthful of roasted root was tore free with a loud crunch as if it was an apple being bitten into. Chewing carefully, the goat continued looking down at his lunch as he held it tenuously between his hooves. With a gulp, his mouth cleared and immediately began speaking.

"You know, it's quite rude to stare."

The drow child gasped as the creature spoke, pulling himself back around the corner. William shook his head, his long curved horns waving in a much wider arc above his head. His right eye slides over to the corner of the socket, a horizontal pupil staring directly over at the corner. The stringy hair and tight skin peeked back around the cement corner warily. With a second bite of the turnip, the goat carefully places his food back on the handkerchief and looked back to the papers beside him. Not wanting to startle the youth again, he doesn't look at him as he addresses him again.

"I don't fancy you a turnip, are you?"

Pulling the papers back into his lap with one hoof, he sees the young drow come around the building, shaking his head neagtively.

"Then you don't have to worry about me biting."

Reaching over to the satchel another flap if pushed open by a hoof as there is a shuffling sound, the sound of sandpaper rubbing over a smooth stone: the sound of small drow footsteps coming closer. From the newly opened flap, William pinches a slender stick of rich black charcoal between the cleft of his hoof. Reaching across, he begins faintly running the tip of the stick on the parchment. The child stretches his neck upward, looking out of the bottom edge of his eyes, trying to peek onto the page. The goat can't help but grin to himself at the curiousity of the kid.

"Wat... What are you drawing?" the child stammered.

The child struggled, and the rather harsh sound of his "R" and gutteral "A's" suggest that tradespeak is not his first language. Pity for him I know piss-all of Drow, as that seems to be his native tongue. Still... got to love his interest.

Smiling as warmly as his features allow, William angles the paper over towards the intrigued drow, showing a sketch of something that appears to be a large train with a conic point on the front.

"A machine I'm helping with the design of. Would you happen to know what a bore is?"

The young drow looks thoughtful for a second, scratching his head.

"That's what Father say Uncle Dzejdres is..."

Beneath his breath, the goat chuckles, his flat teeth peeking out from inside his mouth.

That's the best thing about children; they've got that innocence in them.

"Not quite the same thing. This bore is like a big drill. It's used to dig through dirt and rock."

Holding up a hoof, the goat has the child's attention as he gestures with an invisible curve through the air.

"Imagine, if instead of having to travel over a mountain...." he swipes his hoof horizontally through the air "you could go right through it. That's what this does."

The young drows eyes widen and glisten slightly, looking closely at the sketch, pulling his face nearer to the parchment. Peering up at the goat, the child is grinning.

"That's nice."

Nice?

The youth looks confused for a second, then shakes his head.

"No, not nice. What is word... more nice...?"

The grin stays on the engineer's face as he clears his throat.

"Splendid."

"Yes..." the young drow says, looking back to the machine on the parchment "...splendid."

With a faint cough, William pulls the sketch away, pushing the pages towards his bag. He gives another look over the child before groaning, slipping the pages into the leather satchel.

"Indeed. I'm glad you enjoy it. But sadly, my lunch is over and I must busy myself again. Run along now, lad."

Standin on his hind legs, the caprian is looking down on the mess of spiderweb hair the child has. He gives a faint tap of his hoof to the cap of the drow's crown, the little one turning and rushing off quickly in the way he had came.

Ah. Children are wonderous creatures, even the children of the dark elves. Pity that they tend to grow up to be adult drow...

[Bleater]

The hooves make a slight clomping noise as William goes across the polished marble floor of the entranceway. Rich cherry wood pillars rise on either side of the entranceway, branching off in an arc to make a circular promenade a few feet in. In the middle of this grove of trees with no leaves is a tan block of cedar- bisected by an onxy band much like the building's exterior- that serves as the information desk. An aging drow is haunched over the desk, bifocals precariously hanging at the tip of his hooked nose. His grey eyes peer over the top of the frames as the bipedal goat approaches, noting him with an acknowledging nod.

"More research?"

"Afraid so, old chap. Didn't quite get all I wanted done today, need to look over a few more things."

The dark elf drifts his left hand away from his body, fanning his fingers and flicking his wrist back and forth in a permissive motion that says "go ahead." The caprian tugs with his forearm at the leather stachel, hugging it tighter to his left side as he passes the desk an continuing on through the promenade. Passing between two of the cherry wood pillars, the goat meanders his way down an aisle lined with new books. They bear richly colored covers: dark reds, royal blues and hunter greens all tucked neatly together, leatherbound tomes rubbing elbows with ornate texts that have dyed velvet stretched across their cover. You can swear if you pass through that you even smell the ink still wet on the sheets of papyrus and pressed reed. These new books were popular and meticulously maintained and ordered, placed on the shelf carefully each day. William just walks past them like they don't even exist.

As this aisle ends, the goat passes a cedar table, shrugging his forelimb to let the leather satchel slide onto the tabletop. Not breaking stride, he turns down an aisle into a selection of older books. The stale smell of dust fills this aisle, only overhsadowed by the odor of pine tar which was used two weeks ago to help tend a broken shelf. William pulls his monocle from his vest with the cleft of his hoof, bringing it up to his eye as he scans over the more aged texts. Most of these are worn, with frayed bindings and accordian-like spines, pages barely hanging in. They weren't ordered like the new books are, and the engineer had a sneaking suspicion that most of the books hadn't been moved in at least two years. Few people held interest in these books, and no one really cared about their condition or ordering. Case in point: the first of his selections is a manual on aeronautics. Instead of being with other scientific works, the book is nestled between a fiction tome titled "The Outsider" and a instructional book titled "Interrogation Techniques."

Pulling the book free, a faint swirl of dust came with it as he proceeded down the aisle, carefully scanning the spines of each book for something to captivate his interest. The second book he settles on is a book on Principals of Machinery and Motion. Taking the two texts and resting them on his forearms, he totes them back to the cedar table, dropping them next to the satchel and using a hoof to push the aeronautics book open.

He had only planned on 40 minutes for his lunch, and most of that went to waste. The bore was a simple refinement task: he had been given the existing design and instructed to find the design flaws and fix it. A rather mundane task, but as with all his work, he had devoted too much effort to it. The flaw was apparent immediately to him, but as with any task he was so exacting and meticulous that he took it with him outside and spent most of his lunchtime working on it. He could still smell the uneaten portion of the roast turnip in his bag, and it made his stomach grumble slightly.

No time for that. Got to get busy busy with my research if I'm ever going to make any progress on my designs. My real designs, not the poppycock I'm paid for.

He scanned over the pages quickly, looking for anything of interest. Most of the aeronautics book was information either that he already knew, or that he had no use for. He paused a bit at the back sections, where they had several design schematics. Simple things, such as a design sketch for how airflow goes around a wing, a drawing of how a steam engine connects to an airship propeller, a schematic for a zeppelin. These drew more interest from him, and his yellow eyes scoured back and forth over these images, taking in as much about them as he could.

Leaving that book open, he pulled the other tome atop it, pushing it open with his hoof. He scanned the table of contents briefly before giving another shove of his hoof, flipping pages past in one large bundle. Behind him, down in the prominade, he could hear several footsteps and the gutteral chatter of the librarian and some other party having a conversation in drow. It was something that he would have ignored, had it not been for one sentence:

"Wij zoeken naar de onderzoeker die als Steinbock wordt bekend. Een groot, lopende geit-mens."

One word leapt out at him, and has the monocle drop from his eye suddenly, swinging back and forth in front of him on its chain. His name. Cautiously, he slowly eases up from the table and edges over towards the end of the new books aisle. He eases forwards his snout and then one yellow eye to peek around the aisle, looking out between the cedar pillars into the promenade. There are three men standing on the opposite the librarian. Two are members of the city guard, easily distinguishable from the average person in Ettermire. The man that they flank on the other side is a well dressed drow, his rich black skin blending almost seamlessly with a black linen vest and shirt. In a flash, William notices the clasp holding the dark elf's cloak on.

The seal of King Edari'axa! He must be a government official. And with two guards? Looking for me?

His heart began to pound rapidly in his chest as he felt all four of his stomach's rise up with anxiety. His eyes darted around the room in a panic, trying to see if there were any other exits, perhaps a side door or a back room he could flee to.

They must know about you, William. Run!

He hesitated, looking at the books in front of him on the table.

Run, you tosser! RUN!

Despite his mind screaming at him to flee, he fought back his fear just for a moment and rushed to the table instead of an exit. Leaning down, he gripped a page in one fo the books between his teeth, giving it a tug. There was a r-r-r-r-i-i-i-i-i-p-p-p-p as the page tore free from the book. Quickly he leaned down to the other book, tearing a page from it as well.

Looking back to see if the men were approaching yet, he saw he was still save for the moment, despite being sure that they could hear his heartbeat. In his ears it was pounding quickly like a war drum. He was giving in to his brains orders and getting ready to run. Now the only problem was figuring out how to do that. How to escape...

[Bleater]

Six sets of footsteps echo off the marble as the three dorw walk down the long aisle with the new books. The Aleraran official walks a foot in front of the guards, pointing ahead to the end of the aisle.

"Just down there. He said Steinbock was doing research there."

As the three men reached the end of the aisle, they stepped into the study area and saw several blank tables. Atop one table rested a leather satchel with papers jutting out of it. Looking around however, they saw no one in the area, certainly not the goat they were looking for.

---

William's heart was still pounding as he walked briskly but tried to keep as quiet as he could, gulping hard to send a swallow down his throat. His hooves faintly made a clacking sound as he went, but he took care to take as light of steps as possible without trading the speed of a normal gait. He had walked around the back of the old books and along the wall to the other side of the library, and now was approaching the promenade from the left side rather than the right. Pulling his right forehoof in his vest pocket, he pinched in on the chain to his pocketwatch, pulling the silver posession out. He held it in front of him, lowering his head to look at it intently as he walked towards the entrance without a word. The librarian looked surprised at seeing him cross in front of the desk, and spoke up.

"Mr. Steinbo-"

William cut him off before he could have a chance, talking as he continued without breaking stride.

"Sorry, Zrasdev, can't talk. I seem to have taken too long on my break and am going to be running late for an important meeting. I hope it shouldn't last too long and I can get back to my work soon. Ta-ta!"

Don't stop, don't look up, just keep walking. You''re almost out...

He stepped out through the double doors of the library, letting the large mahogany doors swing shut behind him, dropping back against him as he panted with anxiety. He didn't know why they were looking for him, but he knew it couldn't be good. And not being good also meant that the conditions that brought them seeking him out were quite possibly fatal.

Think, old boy. You can't stay here, they're going to come looking. You've got to find somewhere to lose them...

He had already begun walking away from the building, still panting. His heart was still beating with the cadence of an arabian stallion's gallop, his four stomachs still felt like they were somewhere in his throat. He hesitated with indecision over which direction to go; stepping one way and then pausing, then looking around and stepping another.

The market! I can lose them there.

Turning, he begins to head south down the road as quickly as he can without running, not wanting to draw more attention than he had to. In the otherwise industrial city, the market was one of the last semblages of the destitute. It was in the middle of the part of town populated by the poor, the "low rent" section of town. William is renting out a room in this part of town, simply for the low cost, but he knows he couldn't go there. It would be a grave mistake to lead the official and the guards right to his temporary home, his only spot of sanctuary in an enemy land. Still, the library was at the edge of the poor section of town, which means the market was close.

It is an open air market, the kind where there is always a bustle of people. Merchants of all trades, buyers and sellers of all creeds come to the market. Setting down a blanket and putting your own junk on it iss equal to owning your own shop out there. It is also one of the more frequented locations in the city, especially around midday, where you can hardly walk five feet without bumping or nudging someone else. William had passed through frequently on his trips to and from the library, looking over the wares haphazardly set out by the sidewalk merchants. But there is one area of the market that particularly comes to mind right at the moment...

Now I know I saw them out here just this morning. I hope the seller hasn't packed them up yet and left...

As the crowd begins to thicken and the noise of chattering from the patrons rises, he lowers his head, nipping at the golden buttons on his silk vest...

---

The official passes through the market without the guards, carefully looking around with a suspicious eye. He passes by a dark elf selling homemade jewelry, then another trying to sell tapestries. Frustrated and growing weary, he walks near the livestock sellers and sighs as he leans against a wooden post. As he does, one of the guards manages to squeeze between browsing shoppers and approach him from the right side. The guard similarly looks frustrated as he starts speaking in drow.

"De heer, kunnen wij hem vinden niet."

The official's black face deepens with a frown as he gives a stare that could burn a hole through a man at the guard and replies in tradespeak.

"Yes, I'm aware you haven't found him. But what do you mean, you can't find him?"

Turning, the official points to a pen near him. Inside the pen there are several tan furred goats wandering about. One is gnawing on the wooden post at the edge of the fence. Another roots his snout in the cobblestones as if looking for grass. Two others are walking each other in circles, each using their head to nudge the hindquarters of the other as they start a conflict.

"You see these things? They're called goats. Now, imagine one of these, only wearing a vest and walking upright. Now to me, that seems like something that might stand out in a crowd. Wouldn't you agree?"

The guard humble bows his head and nods in affirmation.

"Ja, mijn kapitein."

Turning, the guard wanders back off into the crowd in search of the engineer that evaded them. With a sigh, the official stomps off, adding his own efforts to the search. As he leaves, the goat that was chewing on the fencepost steps back, watching the dark elves intently. Spitting, he hangs his tongue out in disgust. William looks over, making sure his vest is still balled up on the other side of the fence, hidden behind the pen. Taking a glance around at the other goats, he feels relief and exhales heavily.

The problem with my bretheren here is that to pass as one of them, you have to act as dimwitted as possible. Still, I owe a debt to them. They just provided me with enough natural cover for that ruse to work. Still, it would be best to wait about a half hour before I go back to the flat, just to insure that they don't come back.

His stomachs sink back into his belly where they belong and his heart ends it's racing and takes up a more normal beat as the danger seems to have passed.

[Bleater]

To err on the side of caution, William had ended up staying another hour in the pen at the market. He didn't see the official or the two guards again, but every time another member of the city guard would pass his anxiety would rise again. Were they with the ones pursuing him? After the hour he felt it a safe assumption that they had either moved on or given up looking altogether. He had walked through the streets to go to the building where his rental room was, the anxiety replaced with a bloating feeling in his stomach. He had gone into his room and started the fire in the hearth, letting it grow and warm the room while he placed a kettle of tea on a holding rod hanging over the fire. Even now as the tea is coming to a boil, he feels the bloating swell even more in his stomachs and his mind swirling with questions.

Just who were they? Not many choices there. They could be with the War Department. They're the ones responsible for recruiting people to help with the war effort. That's entirely likely, as they've been going and snapping up scientists of all sorts to help create technology to aid the Alerarans in the war...

He paces through the faintly musty room over mildew stains and water damaged wood, stepping around a small bucket that's meant to catch the one spot that leaks in the ceiling. Reaching an oak desk, he pushes a sliding panel on it, opening a dusty cubby hole with a small, yellow-painted yew box inside. Grabbing it between his hooves, he turns and crosses back across the room.

Or worse. There are rumors swirling about mercenaries and government officials alike acting as a secret police. Hunting out Raiaeran spies. Usually treating them to the old "Off with 'is head" bit. If they found out I'm from Raiaera, they might think me a spy, which does not bode well for my health.

He makes it over to a small oak table that has an empty teacup waiting. The table is used both for his meals and as a workspace, given that he doesn't have much room in the small flat. He sets the box atop the table, pushing open the thin flip-top to reveal a stack of cigars, neatly lined up inside. The rich scent of the tobacco wafted up to his nose and made him grin. It would help calm his mind, get him thinking straight. Especially since it was such a daunting thought he faced.

At best, I'm being sought to help my enemy in the fight against my homeland. At worst, they're looking to kill me. Neither particularly suits me.

His stomach gurgles unpleasantly again and the goat closes his eyes briefly in discomfort.

Alright, enough already. Time to get this out...

He turned away from the table and his cigars, dropping forward onto all fours. He feels his stomachs contract and sharply squeeze inward as he lets a loud cough out. He can feel it starting to rise from the top of his first stomach into his throat.

Ahem... ack... huuuurrrr.... huuuuuuurkkk..... HUURRRRRACK!

His throat swells breifly before a wet ball is regurgitated, dropping to the mildew-stained wood in front of him. William breathes heavily a second, smacking his lips with a soured look on his face as he looks down at the wadded up parchment, saliva and phlegm clinging to it..

Oh, bugger me. This next one's going to be a real pain...

Leaning forward again, he coughed lightly, then gave another squeeze to his abdominal muscles. It would have to move from the third stomach back to the first, and he grunted with effort at each squeeze of his stomach. This one was indeed going to be a pain.

Urrr... urrrk... hoooooo.... huuuuuurrrrr... huuuuurrrrrrkkkk..... uuuuurrr.... HUUURRRRAAAACK!

A larger ball of paper fell out, glistening with stomach juices clinging to it. He looked down distastefully as he runs his tongue across his top row of teeth, trying to scrape the taste of bile from it. Flattening the papers out with his hooves, he pinches each between the cleft of his left hoof, picking them up as he stands, turning back to the table. He reaches inside the thin wooden box, the sound of the tea kettle's whistle faintly rising behind him. Pulling a cigar from the box, he clamps it between his teeth and then walks over towards the hearth. Carefully he places the two pages he had smuggled out of the library on the ground a foot away from the fire. They would need to dry out, but at least they weren't in his stomachs any longer.

Leaning forward, he edges up to the fire, placing the tip of the cigar against it. Gently puffing, small pillows of fragrant smoke begin issuing from the cigar as the rich flavor of the tobacco goes over his tongue. It masks some of the unpleasant taste in his mouth, much to his liking.

I do say, nothing like a fine cigar. And a spot of tea will wash the rest of this deplorable taste away.

Giving a final glance down at the pages set out to dry, he looks at the first page- one filled with text- only briefly, scanning over it to make sure the ink hadn't run badly while in his stomach. The other page, his yellow eyes linger on for several seconds with interest. It's the sketch of the zeppelin from the aeronautics book. The whistling of the kettle persists and snaps him out of his staring, prompting him to stand again and pull the cigar from his mouth with his cloven hoof. Stretching his neck over the fire, he grabs the rod in his teeth, pulling it free from the hanger. He tugs at the handle to the tea kettle, sliding it carefully off the rod and clenching it between his teeth.

The scent of hot tea wafts up from just under his snout and it makes him pause to do a deep inhale.

Ahhh... now that's pleasant...

Turning back to the table, he walks with the cigar in hoof and the kettle in his mouth. His eyes fall on the empty teacup waiting for him and is eager to get to it. There was enough excitement in the day; now it was time to relax a bit. He would come back to the pages later, once they had dried and his mind was clear, so he could get a better look over them...

[Bleater]

Finishing out his third cup of tea, William sets the teacup down on the saucer next to the snubbed butt of his cigar. A half hour had passed since he set the pages in front of the fire, and surely by now they were dry. He made his way over to them, picking them up from the ground and turning back to the table. The chair made a harsh but brief grinding sound as he bumped it a few inches across the wooden planks of the floor into place, reaching past the empty teacup to set the parchments on the table. Pulling his monocle from his vest, he placed it against his left eye and took a seat, crossing one leg over the other and gazing down at the page in front of him.



Chapter 4: Principles of Combustion

Combustion refers to a state of rapid energy release due to reactions between an energy source and certain materials. For our purposes, we will use the example of gunpowder.

This chemical is comprised of potassium nitrate, which is often mined or produced from manure through nitrate farming, combined with charcoal and sulfur. This chemical combination reacts to fire violently, creating a low-yield release of energy in the form of the initial chemical reaction- an explosion- and the byproduct of heat. The process by which the heat is released and the explosion occurs is a prime example of combustion.

Due to the large and rapid release of energy, many researchers believe that combustion could one day be a viable means of energy production and transferral. Much as with the principle energy conversion in steam technologies, combustion could be used to generate sufficent energy to be transferred into motion or heat, in theory.

The current problem with combustion is that due to the violent reaction, it is nearly impossible to fully harness it in a manner conducive to scientific use. Placing it within a contained and controlled environment- a principle known as Internal Combustion- is largely thought by many to be impossible; all recorded forays into this scientific theory have yeilded failures, as combustion reactions are too uncontrollable.

In every instance, the containment apparatus or equipments to harness the energy have been damaged or destroyed by the same reaction that produced the energy. Further-

William finishes reading the page as it cuts off and lets the monocle fall from his eye with a sigh. He had grabbed it in haste without knowing what it was, and now he felt dejection- it was of no use to him.

How utterly fruitless that was. Internal combustion? I go out on a limb to grab a page that's discussing an urban legend? This isn't worth the paper it's written on. Good job, William.

Frowning, he pulled the page aside and looked at the one beneath it. The image of the zeppelin was almost entrancing to him as his eyes wandered over it.

Now this... this has merit.

The sketch is very rudimentary: it has a few notes about lengths and weights, a few crude markings about angles and curves. But to William, it is a gold mine. This is the same kind of work he does, and every scribble of note speaks to him like a page of new information. He is enthralled for a few minutes, just looking back and forth over the image.

Well, at least my theft hadn't been a total waste.

He stands up, grabbing another cigar from the box near him and strolling back to the fire, bending down to light it. With a few satisfied puff, he rises and walks over to the desk he had originally pulled the cigar box from. Pinching a handle with his cloven hoof, he tugs open a drawer that givens a shrill groan. The wood's not sized right, and the sides of the drawer often scrape against the edges of the desk where it is placed. He puffs away contentedly on the cigar as he reaches into the drawer, pulling a stick of charcoal and a piece of paper out.

They won't notice the pages missing. No one ever would. Those old books aren't cared for and even if they did find the pages missing, they'd assume they just fell out or were damaged over time. Half those books are barely held together as is.

Walking back to the table, he pushed the smuggled pages over to the edge, putting the fresh page between them and the empty teacup.

Still, I hope they didn't take my bag. It was foolish of me to leave it there, but I couldn't very well spend much time staying around. I'll go by the library again tomorrow and see if Zrasdev has it. He's a bit of a chav, but as far as drow go he's a decent enough fellow. Hopefully they left it and he decided to hold onto it for me.

Sitting down in the chair again, he gave another puff on the cigar and then set it gently down on the saucer, next to the butt of his last one. The smoke swirled up around his head as he looked over at the drawing of the zeppelin and then back to his own blank page.

But that's tomorrow. Tonight, I've got the mind to do some work. Perhaps it'll take my thinking off of that lot that was looking for me...

Taking the stick of charcoal in hand, he wrote two words at the top of the blank page: "Steel Butterfly." Looking again at the sketch beside him, he had a point of reference as he began to do some drawing of his own...

[Bleater]

Pushing past the mohagony doors, William's hooves make a clacking sound as they step back onto the polished floor of the Kennis Library. As expected, Zrasdev is sitting behind the desk, draped in his usual midnight blue robe, staring over records through his bifocals, a stack of books resting on the desk to his side. Looking up at the entrance, the aging drow has a look of surprise as William walks past the dark brown pillars and into the promenade.

Stay calm, William, act natural. Nothing is wrong, your meeting ran a bit long and you couldn't come back to get your bag. You don't know what the officials wanted, but you're sure it was nothing.

The goat repeats this to himself in his head as he strides with a forced step, trying to appear casual.

"Mr. Steinbock!"

"Good afternoon, Zrasdev. Sorry I couldn't come back yesterday. Had a meeting with the City Department of Infrastructure, and you know how good those blokes are with keeping time..."

The dark elf behind the desk pushes the glasses from the end of his hooked nose up, focusing on the engineer with a mildly suspicious glance.

"Some men from the government were looking for you yesterday. They were here when you left, I tried to tell you but you rushed out before I could."

Dimsmissively, William looks around. His yellow eyes have traces of red veins at the edges, the skin around them puffy. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before; a combination of his paranoia over his "visitors" yesterday and his obsessive work methods. He had spent hours pouring over the initial drawing of the Steel Butterfly, and would have stayed up longer had exhaustion not swpet him into sleep at the very table has was sitting at. He is tired, and doesn't care much for discussion right now, especially since it could very well incriminate him.

"Really? Hmm, that's curious. Perhaps the city had sent some people to make sure I didn't forget about the meeting. Not quite sure, but thank you for letting me know. By chance, did I leave my bag here? I seem to have misplaced it."

The drow librarian continues to peer over the top edge of his glasses, searching the goat's eyes for hints to the truth of his words. Unable to discern, the drow's facial features relax, seemingly buying into William's naivity.

"Yes, you left it in the study area."

Reaching behind the desk, the dark elf pulls the satchel up with a grunt. His withered hand, veins protruding with age, drops it by the handle on the countertop, staring at the capran once more.

"Are you sure everything is... alright?"

William's nervousness at the line of questioning begins to swell, and he quickly reaches forward, slipping his right forelimb through a strap. Pulling the bag back to him, he looks at it, then shakes his head, letting his eyes droop slightly.

"Besides being a bit knackered, everything's quite fine, my good man. Spent a little too much time refining a project for that mining company I was telling you about a few days ago. Got the deadline today, I'm afraid."

"Hmmm..."

The drow seems satisfied with the explaination, at least buying into it for the moment, as he looks back down to the records pages in front of him. Fearing more questions and more suspicion, William takes this cue and pulls the satchel up onto his shoulder, turning and meandering back across the promenade towards the entrance.

A cool wind blows past him as he steps out through the black marble doorway, the heavy doors swing shut behind him. The chill catches him off-guard and he shudders a bit, clenching his bag tighter. William barely has time to make it down the steps before a voice calls out from behind him.

"Pardon me... William Steinbock?" a voice with a drow accent hisses from off to his right.

Bollocks!

Turning, William sees the stately government official standing, looking at him closely. William's heart leaps back into racing again as he nods, trying his best to keep his composure.

"I need you to come with me, there are some things we need to talk about."

I am fully in the sh*t this time. Now to make sure I don't drown in it...

[Bleater]

The room stinks of blood, but William doesn't know this. He certainly can't see any around the sandstone floor, but between the flooring tiles where it had seeped in, it still sent it's stench up. It's an unfamiliar smell to him, so he can't place it as being blood, only that it's slightly bitter smelling and a bit noxious. For someone unfamiliar with it- as he is- one would get the mistaken impression that one of the other men in the room had gas, and that they were being uncouth. The official had led him down to the heart of the city, to some large building he didn't recognize. It was rather mundane actually, brick that had been painted a uniform flat grey color, no signs on it, little to distinguish it from the others they had past save for some reddish brown rust staining at the edges of the doorway.

The official had introduced himself as Scalaar Kresk, Herzog of King Edari'axa. William was unfamiliar with the title, but assumed it was either regional, or a lower court title. This was obviously someone higher up than the Ettermire city officials, but on the low end of the Aleraran nation's officials. The man had said little more to him as he led him to the building they are now in. A guard had taken William's satchel at the entrance, and another- on he recognized from yesterday- had escorted them down to this room.

This is an interrogation room.

"Mister Steinbock..." the official began.

"William, please."

A slight snort and a faint grin crossed, the black skin of the official's cheeks folding creases as he smiled.

"Very good, William. I'm here because there are certain Aleraran interests which need to be looked after, especially in these times. And one of them is keeping a close eye on persons who might... be of either use or detriment to us in our conflict with Raiaera."

Pretty much as I expected. Just stay calm, old boy. Find out what they know, what they want. You can talk your way through this, just stay sharp.

"And you took an interest in me?"

"Indeed."

"Well, then I'm sure there must be some mistake. I'm not sure how much use nor detriment I could be. I'm but a simple engineer. A researcher and planner. I don't really tread on such rubbish as 'war', I tend to avoid barbarism like that. It's uncivilized."

William struggled to hold a straight face, showing neither the fear that was crawling along his back like a swarm of spiders, nor the telling signs of lying. He could feel sweat already starting to mat the fur on his back as it pressed against a hard, uncomfortable maple chair. There was a table between the two, and the official paced around it, nodding.

"Civilized or not, William, war is a reality for you, a reality for all Alerarans. There's no need to be coy and hide behind your excuses here. You are here for a reason."

William tried to swallow, but his mouth felt as dry as The Blight, and his gulp hung in his throat like a hand squeezing lightly in strangulation.

"Tell me about your work." the official said, removing his cloak and placing it on a vacant seat across the table from the goat. It is intended for the Herzog to sit in, but he chooses to stand, walking around the room, keeping an eye on the engineer.

"I do a lot of freelance design. Right now I'm doing projects for a mining company and for the Ettermire City Infrastructure's office."

This part wasn't a lie, he had done work for each as of late, and was his "official" business. He wouldn't mention his own pursuits, the desgins he worked on outside the public eye. Most of those were idealogical; likely never to work, never to see the light of day, but it's best not risking them being found out.

"Hmmm..." the drow paced with his hands clasped behind his back, a very militaristic step in his walk. "Tell me about your latest project."

The sweaty fur pressed against the chair begins to itch, and William shuffles uncomfortably in his chair, trying to grind back slightly against the wood without being too obvious. His nervousness is showing through a little, despite his efforts to try to stay calm. The guard at the door watches him closely.

"Ah, certainly! That would be the Ettermire CID's project. I'm helping to design and develop a autonomic thermaqual transmission system to use in some of the city's buildings."

The drow raised an eyebrow curiously, turning and looking closely at the goat. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite understand that. Perhaps you could tell me again without the engineering terms?"

"It's a water piping system, brilliant if I say so myself. It uses steam technology to generate both heat for the water as well as pressure for forcing it along the pipes. The steam from the boiler additionally works small machinery that fans the flames heating the boiler, meaning it can run automatically. It's quite lovely. But, we're still in the early design..."

As long as I can keep prattling about this, making it seem important, then I'm safe. If they think I'm helping out Ettermire- or any place in Alerar for that matter- then this lot won't see me as a threat.

The dark elf turned to the guard, reaching a hand up to rub his chin as he reflected on this.

"Hmm, a self-sustaining pipe system for hot, running water..." Quietly, he spoke to the guard in the drow language. William could hear their words, but not understand what they meant. "Wat vond u in zijn zak?"

The guard looked to the Herzog, then to William. His eyes stayed locked on the goat as he answered back.

"Tekeningen voor waterpijpen. Hij heeft het vertellen van de waarheid. Maar hij is ook gemarkeerd zoals hebben geprobeerdd om Alerar te vluchten tweemaal vorige maand."

The official nodded, turning to pace back to William's table, smiling cleverly.

This can't be good.

"Well, it seems you're telling the truth. That's excellent work, very beneficial to us, and we appreciate that."

He walks over and pulls his chair out, his cloak still draped over it as he sits, now directly across the table from William.

"Now, perhaps you can tell us why you tried leaving Alerar twice last month..."

The choking sensation around William's throat no longer felt like a hand, but now like a noose.

[Bleater]

"Pardon me?"

William is acting as innocent as he could, a look of shock on his face. The drow sits back in his chair, propping his feet on the table with a look of disgust on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have mistakenly had a rune scribed on my forehead that says I'm a fool. Let me clear this up: Our reports indicate that roving patrols stopped you twice last month trying to cross Valinatal Pass. Sound familiar?"

William can finally swallow, but it does no good. His spit feels like a fistful of rocks sliding its way through each of his stomachs in succession.

"That's right. Why, is something wrong with that?"

That's it, old boy. Change gears, go on the offensive. Catch them off guard and trip them up. The less of their bearings they have, the easier it will be for the facade to pass.

"And just where did you suppose you were going?" the drow says, an arrogant tint to his voice. He's grinning like a cat playing with a mouse, assured he has his prey trapped.

How about I give you a taste of the truth, you cocky wanker?

"Raiaera. More specifically, Anebrilith."

The look is wiped off of the drow's face. It seems this was the answer he had in mind, but the last one he actually expected to hear.

"And just what business did you have in Anebrilith?"

William leans forward, placing his hooves on the table, sighing with exasperation and rolling his eyes, very concious of playing the part of his emotional shift carefully. The act will have to be perfect to pass.


"I would think for such a strapping and bright fellow as yourself you would have put that bit together." William shook his head and clicked his tongue with a tut-tut sound, almost condescendingly.

But I did say only a small taste of the truth.

"Anebrilith has a very extensive and well-made irrigation system. Since I've been comissioned to work on that water piping project for Ettermire, I wanted to travel out and do research. Take the best parts of their system, improve on it, and put it into my own. I'm still not seeing what the problem here is."

Sitting back, William crosses his forehooves in front of his chest defensively as the drow looks nearly appauled, sitting up and leaning one hand on the table.

"And did it occur to you that might not be advisable, given that we are making war preparations with Raiaera?"

"Well, of course it did," the goat pauses, taking in a breath and seeing the look of anger bubbling onto the surface of the dark elf's face.

Best not to push it too far. Step back a little bit. The idea is to pull yourself out of the fire, not leap head-first.

"But that's exactly why I was trying to go. Now, I personally don't have a head for matters of war; I'm an academic. But I was keenly aware that if I was ever going to get a chance to do this research, I was going to have to act early while preparations were still being made. I'd have no chance to do this research once full scale war erupts. Now, apparently I misjudged and was too late. I missed some critical research, but I accepted it and changed the plans on my own."

Suddenly, William feels like his right cheek is on fire as something hard strikes him, rocking his head to the side. A shout in the drow language follows right away.

"LEUGENAAR!"

Blood immediately rushes to the site of the blow as he turns back, seeing the guard who had been by the door now standing next to him, a fist raised. Kresk jumps up from his chair with surprise, calling out to his subordinate.

"That's enough!"

The guard has a fire of rage in his eyes, and the raised fist has the elbow rise behind it as it starts swinging forward. William reacts quickly, turning directly into it, butting his head forward as the fist strikes the bony plate of his skull between his horns. At the moment of impact, there is a cracking sound, and it's not coming from the goat's head.

"Ik zei die genoeg ben! Verlaat ons!" the Herzog shouts at the guard angrily, stepping forward.

The guard in turn is cradling his right hand in pain, grimacing through gritted teeth. With a look of resentment towards the capran, he huffs before turning. "Ik ben droevig, mijn Herzog." Bowing his head slightly as he nurses his hand, the guard slowly makes his way across the sandstone tiles to return back to the doorway, stepping through out to the hall.

Oi. That's going to hurt the old melon in the morning. Hope that tosser enjoys a broken hand.

William's snout flares as he frowns with anger. Kresk shakes his head with disappointment before turning to the goat.

"I apologize for the behavior of my men. These tensions rising have put us all a little on edge. I'm terribly sorry about that."

Checkmate.

Holding up a hoof to his forehead and rubbing the fur there slightly, William's yellow eyes peer up at the drow official.

"I should hope so! To think that I do a valuable- and quite frankly thankless- job, solely for the benefit of Alerar... that I toil to make life easier and more efficient... and this is the bloody reaction I get? Oh, that's just brilliant!"

Huffing a bit of his own, William feels the weight lift off his stomachs, and a warmth grow in his chest. After being so careful to hide away his real feelings, the brief emotional release did wonders for him. Already he feels him self calming, and he lets that show through genuinely in his facial features.

"I think we've talked about enough in here. Why don't we go for a walk?"

William nods, still rubbing his forehead with his hoof. He's about to walk into the unknown again, but for the first time, he doesn't fear it. His ruse has passed, and whatever he's about to walk into, he's certain that it's not his death.

[Bleater]

The goat engineer and the drow official walk side by side, stepping out through the rust-stained brick walkway. Kresk has his hands clasped behind his back, looking down thoughtfully as they amble out into the street. William's bag has been given back by the guards, and he's shifting it on his shoulder to find a comfortable position to carry it.

"With the war escalating..." he began, hesitating a moment as William looked over at him, "we have to be careful who we trust. Who we put a vested interest in. It occurs to me I never fully explained myself; I'm a magistrate from the War Department. We sought you out for your unique skills and vision. Your work with the various companies in Ettermire has not gone unnoticed."

The goat is preoccupied for a moment. His tongue is running along the molars of his top row of teeth. The gums are swelling a bit, and one toothe feels a bit loose, jarred by the guard's sucker-punch. Mild pain washes along his face as William keeps tonguing the tooth, unable to control it. He feels a pang of uncertainty in his stomach again.

Just how much about me do they know?

"But when the issue about your attempts to enter Raiaera came up... it was something we had to ask about. Because I'd like to think that your vision stretches beyond simple machines and everyday amenities. I can see it in your eyes, someone like you has grand schemes in mind. And that's why we wanted you. To give you the chance to work on projects that have "teeth" to them."

William shake his head with a sigh. Inside, he can't believe what he was hearing. The same people who are threatening his home want his help in enabling them. On the outside, he lets a glimmer of his reluctance slip through as he continued clomping along the cobblestoned road.

"But I told you, I have no interest in the war. In fact, I have a distaste for it."

"William..."

The drow stops, putting a hand on the goat's shoulder. William turns to look at him as he motions across the street with his other hand.

"Look around you. This city... our life... it's being threatened. I look around and I see beauty that no High Elf could concieve. This is the future laid out in front of us. The modern world rises around us and we do what we should: we embrace it. We don't try to deny it, to push it away. For all the propaganda they spread painting us as savages and themselves as noble, what do you think would happen if the so-called "High" Elves marched over the Mountains of Twilight and into this city?"

William loses track of his ire and nervousness, instead listening to the dark elf. There is something impassioned in his voice, something William had not seen from a drow before.

"These streets, these buildings, they would raze it all. They would lay seige to it and burn every inch of steel and brick and mortar that we have. They would build the fires so high, you could see them from Salvar. That is something that we cannot allow. Because when the time comes, it will be people like you and me- not the soldiers and their blades- that turn the tide of battle."

The irony is delicious, and hangs in the air over William's head like a cloud. The goat shakes his head again, feigning ambivalence. In reality, he wants to laugh in the dark elf's face; he is neither bold nor stupid enough for that.

"I'm not quite certain..."

The drow nods sagaciously, patting William on the shoulder before sliding his hand off to rest back at his side.

"Take some time to think about it. When you're ready, Alerar will be ready for you. It always is. It'll just a matter of when you decide you're going to do as much for your nation and your King as they do for you."

Like keeping me a prisoner and moving to destroy my people?

"I'll certainly have to think it over."

The drow smiled a cracked smile of yellowing teeth.

"Good..."

William fishes in his vest pocket, pulling out his pocketwatch. Mashing his hoof against a small knob on the top, it flips open. Looking down at it for a moment, William grumbles.

"While I am thinking it over, is there any chance I could have you wind my watch for me, old chap? I'm all thumbs with it."

Well, or no thumbs, rather.

The drow nods with a grin, taking the watch and lightly turning the knob atop it. Handing it back, he looks closely at the goat's yellow eyes, the capran staring intently at him through his flat pupils. The dark elf bows slightly, pulling his arm in front of him in a hooked motion while making a fist.

"For the glory of King Edari'axa."

William returns the gestured salute to the elf, the last piece of the act.

"Indeed. for the glory of King Edari'axa."

William is ashamed and disgusted with what he just did, and turns, walking away to leave the Herzog standing along in the street.

[Bleater]

William walks down the street, his emotions scrawled on his face. His eyes drift back and forth among concrete and steel, rust and soot. The distant grinding and machining sounds of the industrial city incessantly echo about the streets, rining in his ears. The Madrigal Machina, playing endlessly. His thoughts are swirling, confusion and worry beating out the same rhythm inside his skull.

My, what a bleedin' cop-it I've gone and gotten into.

He stares down at his hind hooves as he shuffles down the street, his gait conveying dejection. He still absent-mindedly rubs his tongue on his sore gums and loose tooth, the troubles in his head making him lose track of the troubles of his body.

I've not gotten in the good graces of the Alerarans, but certainly the suspicion has been thrown off me for the moment.

He thinks back to Herzag Kresk's words. The emotion the drow showed, the passion. It was genuine. And you don't show genuine to someone you think is your enemy; you show them the kind of deception William had laid out.

Still, it's an impossible choice. If I don't take the offer, the suspicion is back on me. Either he figures out the truth, or he continues playing into the facade but treating me as a Aleraran traitor. If I do take the offer I risk them looking at me with more scrutiny and possibly...

William stops, frowning as his forehead ruffles, shaking his head quickly.

Bloody hell, what am I saying? William, have you lost your wits, old boy? To take that offer... why that's madness. To do so in deceit would turn you from a Raiaeran in hiding to a Raiaeran spy. I'm not quite the stock for something like that. To accept it in earnest, why I'd have to defect. I'd be a traitor to my people...

Stuck with his head swimming, the goat tries to put the impossible choice out of his head. There is no safe choice here, just a matter of which hardship he's going to be willing to endure. Looking around, he decides he must relax, put this out of his mind for the moment. Enjoy the scenery. His eyes fall on a pair of drow children playing in front of a building. Plastered on the wall behind them is a propagandist poster for the military, a drow standing with a claymore raised over his head and a rifle at his side. At the bottom of the poster it reads "We All Must Do Our Part." It seems perverse that the children play against such a backdrop, a stark reality to just what their world is like. William can only sigh as he looks on.

Poor lads, the know not what world awaits them.

The goat rounds a corner towards a more nicely groomed street, less soot coating the walls, less trash on the ground. It is a more "corporate" part of the city.

Might as well stop in at the mining company while I'm out and drop off the bore design. Then I can go home and rest.

The thoughts of the pitiable children playing still stay with him for a moment thought. His mind drifts briefly back to the drow child from yesterday, who had been cautious but so intrigued by him. A thought of the look in Kresk's eyes during his speech, the vigor he showed as he looked at Alerar. These were images that would haunt William.

Before, his enemy had always been faceless, evil, and loathsome. Now... they were people. Living and breathing, they had faces and names. Pride and pity. A life and a home.

And it didn't even occur to him that for the first time since arriving in Alerar- even if it was only in a thought- he had called someplace that wasn't in Raiaera "home."

[Elrundir]

Judgment Time!

STORY

Continuity ~ 6/10 ~ Nothing spectacular of note here, but nothing really to complain about either. I personally felt that you might have gone into more detail about why William came to Alerar, especially being a Raiaeran and knowing the long history of conflict those two nations have had. In some ways it's implied (his love of technology and invention for example), but it never hurts to state it outright. As well, this continuity was kind of slow to unfold, as we didn't learn certain things, such as his nationality or the type of work that he did, until a fair bit later in the quest. In a nut-shell: try not to leave too many questions unanswered, leaving the reader scrambling for details unsaid.

Setting ~ 9/10 ~ Quite a strong point. Mechanics aside (which will be discussed later), you describe William's environment and his unique interactions with it quite well indeed.

Pacing ~ 6/10 ~ Not bad. As far as creating an atmosphere consistent with a nation headed for war, you succeeded admirably. The only trouble is I found myself thinking that it seemed to lack a certain degree of "purpose" like most quests would have. It wasn't too detrimental, but something to think about in future.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 7/10 ~ William's dialogue fit him well where used, though sometimes it felt like he was thinking things that would have been better suited to just be included in the narrative. I have a bit of a love-hate going on for the Drows' dialogue; some seemed a bit silly, while other bits were very fitting and propagandized.

Action ~ 8/10 ~ I'll admit I was a bit skeptical and curious going in, but you managed to fit in a very appropriate degree of action in a quest like this. The things William did flowed naturally and logically - his paranoid escape from the library, his hiding with his goat brethren, his attacking the guard in self-defense.

Persona ~ 9/10 ~ Another strong aspect. I find William to be quite an interesting character, and you write him well.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 6/10 ~ You obviously have a good grasp of writing. I would just like to see you develop that, and begin to involve some of the more advanced techniques as well, which were lacking in this thread and can give it an extra bit of punch and draw. Don't take this too critically; just view it as something that you can improve on, as we all must.

Mechanics ~ 5/10 ~ Quite a bit of jumping from past to present tense and back, sometimes within a single paragraph, or even a single sentence. If it were to happen once or twice it would be hardly noticeable, but it was frequent and persistent. There were also some typos and spelling errors, though they're a minor factor in this category this time. Don't underestimate the value of proofreading.

Clarity ~ 7/10 ~ Despite the above, I had little trouble figuring out what was going on at any given time. The jumping around with verb tense did tend to get quite jarring though, so keep an eye out for that in future. Neither past nor present is incorrect, but stick to one or the other.

MISC.

Wild Card ~ 5/10 ~ One thing I want to mention here, since I can't really mention it anywhere else, is the use of colour. Generally I discourage it for a couple of reasons: one, depending on which forum layout the reader uses, some of the colours can be very difficult to read (as was the case here for me); and two, the use of colour to differentiate between who's speaking tends to come across as lazy (which factors into your technique and mechanics scores). You don't need to use colours to differentiate between speakers and thinkers; if done properly, clarity won't be sacrificed at all.

TOTAL - 68/100 ~ Not bad at all for your first quest. I definitely look forward to seeing you develop your writing style, and seeing how such a unique character evolves as the war heats up!

Bleater receives 692 EXP and 100 gold as compensation for getting socked in the jaw.

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added!