Chapter 3.2

Moments later, Rolf only begins to speak, “What...what on earth!? Who is this st...strange man? Where did he come from?”
“He’s a Mohari that’s for sure, but it’s a little strange for one to be wandering around without his tribe” Ann replied.
“Well, I know that! I’m as asking why he’s up there on that ladder and why is here?” Rolf said exasperated.
“Well let’s find out” Ann said strolling into the crowd.

She didn’t get far when the Mohari man sighted her in the crowd.  At the sight of her, he stood still, no longer causing the ladder to sway back and forth. Impossibly, his grin became wider still, stretching his lips to reveal every tooth. In the next moment, he dived off the ladder and bounded over to Ann stepping face to face.

“uhh....young man, you do not bound off in such a way and then force yourself into other person’s space!” Rolf began to lecture.

“Let it go Rolf.” Ann said as the Mohari began to edge away.  After her previous travels with a Mohari tribe she was familiar with their lack of interpersonal space, but even this was a bit extreme.  
Ruefully Rolf shook his head. “What’s your name boy!? What do your parents call you?”
The Mohari looked around and only shrugged his shoulders and began gesturing to the tattoos that covered his skin.  

“It doesn’t work that way Rolf.  The Mohari have a different way of naming then you or I” Ann sighed. The crowd of people that had previously trying to get the man to leave the ladder had begun to circle around in curiosity.  It was apparent, that most villagers had never seen a Mohari man before and suspected him to be a criminal of some sort.  

“I think we should move somewhere else.” Ann said speaking only loud enough for Rolf and the Mohari.  

Rolf peered over her shoulder and nodded.  “These people need to be getting back to work.” Then louder for the whole crowd to hear, “It’s alright men! We’ll take care of this youngling!”

The crowd muttered and slowly drifted away.  They were never very accepting of outsiders, but with only rumors of “Mohari thieves” they were more suspicious than ever.

--A--

Back at Rolf’s bakery, Ann and the two men had finally settled in with a cup for tea for each.  Rolf flexing his hands peered down at the young man ready to question him to the end.

“Alright, where should we begin, with ya?”
“How about I handle this Rolf.” It was evident the man did not know anything about the culture and identity of a Mohari. Turning to the young man, “What do you call yourself on this day?”
“How’s that any different than what I said?” Rolf said indignantly.
“The Mohari people are not given a name, they choose one and for that matter, it often changes. He answered you truthfully when he started to point at his tattoos.  A name for a Mohari is his life and his tattoos are a reflection of every name he is.  Their culture is not the same as ours.”
“Oh.”
“Now if you would be quiet for a moment, we might be able to learn something.”  The man answered with a huff in reply crossing his arms across his chest.

The young man watching the conversation peered ponderously at the two turning his head from side to side.  When he was convinced that nothing else was to be said, he rolled up his sleeve to point at a tattoo on his forearm.  

Ann studied the tattoo for a minute or two.  Different tribes had developed their own styles to depict the names and events of each person.  This style was reminiscent of the tattooist that she had travelled with years before. It didn’t take long for her to decipher the name, but the depiction of the event before the name seemed to be vital part of information.

When she released his arm she frowned and began to ponder quietly in her head.
“Well! What did it say?” Rolf spoke up impatiently.
“He is called Echo.” She said looking at the Mohari for confirmation to which he replied with an enthusiastic nod. “Also, there’s no need to question him too much or rather we can’t.”
“Why not?” Rolf questioned looking first to Ann then to Echo.
The young man, called Echo grimaced and reached his hands to his neck to remove the scarf  that clung there.  As he pulled away the cloth, Rolf face contorted from disgust to understanding and finally sympathy.  Under his scarf, Echo, hid the scarring tissue that had removed his ability to speak.  The injury was healed completely, but the sight of it was hard to manage. Once, Echo realized that it was understood; he quickly covered it again before resting his hands down on the table before him. 

Alchemist by Skynes

Panic filled the night as the flames licked the across the rooftops, the streets  full of noise as the people rushed about with buckets of water to douse the flames. Nicolas casually picked himself off the ground and dusts his robes, "Well now I know the result of THAT concoction." he observes wiping the soot from his blackened face. "Oh well," he sighs, looking at the result of his latest experiment, "another lab destroyed, I really should get out of this habit... Wwoah!" once again he ends up on the ground, this time however soaking wet with a bucket comically hanging on his head.

"What'ra standin' around for? Can't you see thar's a fire going on!?" is yelled at him, Nicolas pulls the bucket from his head and sees his landlord standing over him. The landlord's eyes widen as much as Nicolas's do "YOU!" he roars. "Oh. uh.. hi" Nicolas yelps clumsily staggering to his feet, almost losing his balance again as he does so. A solid grip around both sides of his jacket collar hauls him to his feet and picks him off the ground, leaving him staring into the face of his landlord, his muscular landlord, his landlord that's taller than him, with muscles as thick as Nicolas's body. Muscles that could move a fist at a very fast and painful speed should they decide to. Muscles that he'd rather not be on the receiving end of.

"What. Did. You. Do?", four words spoken that Nicolas hears often and never in a pleasant tone. Nicolas shakes in his head violently in a mild panic and holds his hands up in surrender "Nothing.. nothing.. I mean.. nothing much." taking a glance at what's left of his lab he looks back to see the landlord still glaring, "I mean uh.. I took a couple of my potions. The red one and the orange, err was it orange? Might've been yellow, hard to tell in that light... Anyway! I then mixed in some of the grey powder and uh... boom, heh heh he...", Nicolas trails off the nervous laughter and winces, expecting the inevitable violence.

The violence never came, the landlord dropped him and picked up the bucket, "I don't ever wan' ta see yer face again." he utters in a tone that suggests that bad things would happen if ever did. Nicolas decided that yes, it was time to move on, new town, new people, especially new people, people who preferably hadn't heard of him. He dusts his jacket once more and checks his pockets for his various 'just-in-case' chemicals kept in more solid containers, the kind that can survive a few heavy knocks to the ground with a man's weight on top of them.  Yes, new people, new town, but first, looking at the sky seeing it being, ohhhh round about midnight, looking at his hands and clothes, sees the soot, filth and muck on top of the now rather wet clothes, first he thinks, a bath is in order. After all, you never know what contaminants cover such dirty hands. Pointing aimlessly down the street he announces with a dangerous light in his eyes and a grin that would scare the most hardened bandit "To the inn! And then, to SCIENCE!"

On the far side of the town, away from the fire, the commotion and the potentially violent landlord muscles, Nicolas breathes a sigh of relief as he sinks into the water of his bath and the ache of his rather scrawny muscles drowns in the warmth. Reaching over the side of the tub he picks up a small vial and empties the contents into the bath, an aroma of lavendar quickly fills the room and the water of the bath begins to froth with bubbles. Again Nicolas sighs and drifts into sleep.

Fire... flames.. licking tongues... not one building, not two, many buildings, all over, flames growing... people screaming, people dying... fire everywhere... arm pinned, trapped.. burning hot metal.. searing flesh... smell of people burning...agony.. arm, trapped, agony, burning, screaming, pain, fire....agony.

Nicolas awakes with a start, his bath water cold, his candle almost exhausted, breathing hard and heart racing he wills himself to calm down some, but fails, holding the burn scar on his left arm, he sits in the bath sobbing until the candle runs out.

Race Profle, DnD version

Heritage

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Discerean
Truth. Valor. Wisdom. These are things that you will care about most in your day to day lives. Living on an island off the mainland of Terramar you and your people have known to be the diplomats and truth seekers of the world—often striving for truth in whatever they do.  
Personality:  Discerean are lovers of all things true.  While generally can varying kinds of professions, they still seek truth in their field of study through wisdom and intelligence. Often they are kind, but often have very little regard for their emotions. They seek reason and logic as the foundation of their studies and conversations.  Known as noble people, they seem to have lofty idealistic ideals regarding how people ought to work together and their interest is the diplomatic unity between people.  
Physical Description: Discereans are some of the tallest of the people of Terramar ranging from 6’4” to no less than 5’10” for the shortest woman.  They are most often of fair skin and even those who might often work outside rarely darken their skin.  One of the most unusual characteristics is their long white hair and dark purple eyes.  Often, this trait is what distinquishes them from other people groups.  Generally, this people are often concerned with healthy living and constantly train even if they are not monks, believing that concentration of the body is mediation of the mind.
Relations:  Since the Discereans are so interested in working with other people groups they are highly interested in forming positive relations with others. Yet, due to their object seeking of truth (and sometimes extremely uncanny way of detecting it) they are often regarded with cool criticism and avoided.  To be involved with a Discerean is for them to know your whole life story, without saying a word.
Alignment: Discereans are most often very lawful human beings.  They are interested in systems of people working together and as such believe laws are what best guide them.  A chaotic nature is extremely rare and frowned upon by their society at large.  They tend to be often charismatic to the plight of human beings and so therefore of good nature, but some can be neutral or evil caring more for their own interests rather than humanity at large.
Lands: The Discerens homeland is an island off the continent of the mainland of Terramar. It’s landscape is often not very producible for farming, but raised gardens and fishing provide for enough food for the second smallest group of people of Terramar.  Surronding this little island are cliffs on every side, making landing or attacking it nearly impossible.  Sides of the cliff have been cut into by previous generations that allow the Discerean to travel other lands if the rare desire should strike.
Religion:  After the splintering of the views of God, the Discerean have sought after God as the truth bringer and seeker.  They see him as the one who helps the see the truth of the world and of its people.  Organization of worship is rare but for on festiveal days, but many are willing to thank God for the truth he has brought to their minds.


Mohari
“That was fun! What’s next?” This the idea by which Mohari tend to live.  They are by their impulsive nature always seeking the next experience and opportunity.  They are a race of wanderers broken down into several tribes that move from campsite to campsite.  Often they specialize in hunting and forestry, but they have a knack for performing for the delight of their fellow people and for the Farragorns whose villages they visit.
Personality: Mohari are of a joyful and a “spirited” nature that they hope to share with all that meet.  They desire that people work together, but in jovial spirit.  They are a highly charismatic race seeking to love all that enter into their camps.  They will quickly share of what they have with one another and hope to sustain a spirit of sharing. They are also often impulsive and rash with their emotions sometimes to a fault.  Yet often this spirited nature is the most encouraging to the down trodden.  
Physical Description: Often of a shorter nature, the Mohari are usually 4’ 7”to 5’ 6”.  They are dark of a darker complexion and usually in clothed in bright fabrics and adornments.  Their skins are also covered tattoos, which describe their family heritage, name, and history.   
Relations: The Mohari are very loving people and wish for all people to join in fellowship. For this reason their relations with others are generally always positive.  Often when individuals enter their camp to harm them, they are able to bring that person to love them instead.  Their best relations are with Farragorns as they often entertain them along their journeys.  Nonetheless, many regard their ways as strange and see them outsiders to any ordinary way of living.
Alignment: Mohari are generally of a good alignment, though some may be more often be far too interested in their fun and impulsive nature than for caring for others.  A lawful nature is extremely rare.  More often than the impulsive nature of the Mohari lends to a chaotic alignment.
Lands: The lands of the Mohari are a forested area that lies between the mountain to the north and rolling prairies to the south.  One may lose their way along such trees, but the Mohari have created paths for generations upon generations, but only those who have been taught can find their way.  Food has never been much an issue for the skilled, though there are some dangers of wild animals attacking or getting lost if one wanders too far from camp.  As some tribes paths have run near Farragorn villages, some are more acquainted with the rolling prairies and village life, while others transverse harsh, cold mountainous passes each year.
Religion: The Mohari honor the spirit of joy in their worshipful experiences.  They toast to god’s mirth and ability to sustain living with each glass and perform the time honored festivals for the changes of the seasons.


Quentin
“So we are trying to get from here to there and all we got are these broken pieces from a train?” “Well I’m sure we can make something that flies”  Hard working and innovated, the Quentin is a natural seer of the possibilities and takes all that he can to overcome obstacles that lay before him.  He harnesses the power of steam and makes his dreams come true.
Personality:Quentins are a strong willed race fighting to overcome all obstacles that lay in their path.  Often a rather combative race, they are also inventors of the greatest technology Terramar has to offer--steam engines.  Quentins can often be idealistic about their future when they are creating new machines, and even optimistic when their machines fall apart.  They keep working hard to better improve the living situation of their race. For them, their community is more important than the individual and they will sacrifice all to create a new, brighter, and bigger life.
Physical Description: The Quentin are of varying builds--from the strongman of the soldier to the wiry frame of the alchemist--and tends to reflect the profession that they are in.  Overall, they are a relatively short with the tallest being 5’9” and the shortest 5’. Their skin tends to be of a more olive nature, but often covered with the marks of soot and ashes that comes with being steam engineers and soldiers. Their dark hair often holds onto the effects of steam and grease making it look even darker. Often they are garbed in the dull uniforms of their profession and rarely dress outside of it’s rigid fabrics.
Relations: Quentins, isolated by sea and mountains have for generations been largely indifferent to the people that populate Terramar.  Under the regime of General Seth, they have become more concerned with the unity of Terramar.  As a whole they find the other groups to be odd, or simpleminded and should conform to their ideas.  This most true with the Mohari’s chaotic tendencies whose lands lay just to the south of the mountain passes.  
Alignment: Most often the Quentin is a rather neutral person with perhaps a more chaotic or lawful nature depending on whether work calls for the rigid following of commands in miltary or the chaotic experimentation of the inventor.
Lands:  The reason for Quentins hardworking attitude and ability to be innovative comes from the land in which they live in.  Their land is desolate of most vegetation and very little animals come to wander there, with the exception of bold wolves who hunt for vulnerable people traveling in the mountains to the northeast.  To grow food, they have learned to create underground agriculture systems and have gained some of their wealth from the mining of rocks and minerals that cannot be found elsewhere.  To their north is great storm system that limits their travel by ship and by the south they are blocked in by great mountain chain that isolates them.
Religion:  Before the formation of more militaristic ideals, the Quentins praised god for the ability to see possibilities in the world before them.  In present day, religion has become meaningless and their temples are crumbling if not already transformed to an inventor’s lab.


Farragorn
Grow.   This is the care of the Farragorn people.  They are a hardworking group as farmers, craftsman, and merchants.  They celebrate the giving of life to every part of their lives and enjoy the moments of celebration at the end of a hard day’s work, but also welcome the grief of death and disappointment.  A more simple minded people, they are known peasants of Terramar.
Personality: The Farragorn are a people of simple living. They are hardworking people in whatever their trade and work to provide for themselves and their families.  Often more independently minded, they still love to work in their small town and communities and enjoy the delight of a beer or even a small barfight for that matter.  They are a loving people and work to make things continue to live, be it people, animals, or the plants they care.
Physical Description: The Farragorn are a solid looking group.  Strong muscles and toughened skin are the result of generations of hard working in the sun.  Often many of them have tanned skin and light sandy hair from the hours in the sun.  They are of a varying different heights but mostly range between 5’4” and 6’.
Relations: The Farragorn are relationable within themselves and also with those of other heritages, no matter how odd they are.  They are grateful for the wisdom of the Discerean, but find their lofty ideals unrealistic.  They appreciate trading with the Quentins, but find them too ambitious and complicated. Finally, they are humored by the Mohari tribes that visit villages and towns, but far too unpredictable and flightly.  In the end, the Farragorns are happy with Farragorns and need little else.
Alignment: As a wholesome people, the Farragorns mostly tend to align towards good, though swindlers and thieves are often still present.  They are also can fall between chaotic and lawful, but rarely fall into either extreme.  Mostly, they are independently minded people who care for their community and land, those who do not are frowned upon and ostracized in society.
Lands: The land of the Farragorns is a vast rolling fertile land dotted with villages, towns, and small cities.  As the Farragorns are mostly content to live in their own separate communities travelling occurs rarely with the exception of merchants who travel together and the occasional man or woman visiting their cousin in the next town over.  In general, travel is relatively safe, but there are the dangers of getting lost, being robbed, or attacks by bears or wolves.  Most often the Farragorns work the land through farming and livestock, though some provide for the town through craftsmanship.
Religion: The Farragorn are some of the more traditionally active in their worship.  They praise god for his life-giving ability and for the food they are able to produce each year. Most attend services weekly and celebrate festivals of harvest and growing in gratitude of God.

Marianna--steamer

“Man alive, Marianna, you are a clumsy one!” I had dropped one of my Master’s tools, a piece that had been invented by him and is the only one of its kind. I understood perfectly well that the destruction of it would result in compensation on my part, one that I would not be able to afford as an apprentice resulting in me becoming a slave until the debt was paid. While generally my master is a kind one even to his slaves, being a slave does lend to becoming the greatest inventor in steam—steam engineer.

Becoming a steam engineer is not an easy thing to accomplish. Many had tried over the years only to die in risky experiments or simply unable to match the increasingly high expectations. The best further take the risk of the spies sent by competitors who value the ideas much more highly than any human life. Yet, the honor of being called a steam engineer is worth more than the risk.

“Marianna! Are you listening to me?” I shook my head no, also waking myself from my daydream. “I’ve had just about enough of your foolish daydreams. You want to become a master, but spend most of your time staring off in space. Why did I agree to apprentice you?”

“Because, because…” I stuttered, “Because my father gives you discount on your materials!”

“Your father?” my master laughed. “

Young girl apprentice in the field of aeronin though father is a hydronin
eventually becomes a pirate after a mishap with her master 

first slave level, but shows her worth because of her training as an aeronin and hydronin 

able to progress to captain of her own ship 

runs into her master's son (Icarus IV) who she grew up with (meet because of Ann?)

lots of conflict and accusations on both parts 

work together for the sake of Ann 

develop a love relationship with Icarus 

the two are the first to develop a single person flight suit that can stand the harsh cross winds from the mountains

Description:

hands covered in fingerless leather gloves with cloth sleeves up above the elbow.  The leather is scratched and thinned in some places the cloth part has several tears and large burn holes.  The skin underneath is scratched and scarred.  The gloves are in constant need of repair, which Marianna is sometimes too absent-minded to do at the end of the day.  Her klutz manner also lends to the disrepair in her clothes as she often gets too close to fires and steam.  She wears a long heavy leather apron over her clothes while she works.  Wearing often clunky heavy men's shoes with the laces untied.  They are a couple sizes too big for her and she wears a couple layers of thick wool socks to keep them on.  Under the apron she wears a rough men's white shirt, that very quickly formed a sooty stained  gathered tightly in a knot around her waist. The sleeves are rolled up as high as they will go. Her baggy pants also sooty and burned are rolled up above her boots and held on with suspenders.  Her skin and hair is dirty with soot and oil and often there are burn marks and scars on any visible skin, though none of them are major.  Her hair is brushed hasty back into a low ponytail or pigtails.  Often, when she is thinking she has been known to play with her hair blackening it's brown color to black from the oil in her hands.  When she isn't on work duty, she wears the required dress of her position.  This is a military grade dress.  A short collar rounds her neck and buttons down the front.  The waist is cinched with a belt.  The dress ends just below the knees.  Marianna has but one pair leggings which have been ripped and ruined as all are most of her garments.  Boots cover feet and are also military grade with a thick sole and tight straps to firmly cover the lower leg.  Often the same gloves used at work, Marianna will continue to wear.