You're visiting some friends in Oslo for the weekend, and you thought to go out and see the town since your friends are still asleep. But you're bright-eyed and curious, and you leave them grumbling as you bounce out the door.

The steam rising off the roadway makes the city a place of enchantment as the sun glints off the water on the ground and in the air.  You see some girls out for a stroll, and happily wave at them.  They giggle and move on.

Not despairing, you slip into an electronics shoppe.  Inside, you see another lovely lady standing by a new computer device.  She's having a hard time with it.  So you venture to help her.

She giggles at one of your jokes, and encouraged you hammer at the keyboard a little harder in a theatrical gesture.

The screen flashes white.  Smoke comes out of the keyboard.  The girl backs up.  Puzzled, you reach out to the keyboard....an arc of white light launches from the board, and you seem to see bubbles of yellow something all about you in the light which covers you....and why are you looking up at the ceiling....?

=======================================

You wake. You're draped over something hard and angular.  Your eyes are closed, and you can smell dust and old paper, and feel a deep quiet which is broken by the shuffling of several sheets of paper, and a nasal, irritating voice.

"Your name please? Method of travel? Come now, wake up.  Least you could do. Come in here, wreck my routine...."  A throat gets cleared. "I say, WAKE UP!"

PT

    Hadrian stirred. Throughout his twenty eight year long life he had never felt so thoroughly beaten up as he did now. He had a very vivid image in his head of his skin glowing orange from burn he must have received from whatever had happened. Though strangely he didn't feel particularly singed. Thoughts were racing through his mind trying to get a fix on what had happened. The last thing Hadrian remembered was the light emanating from the computer after he so brutishly hammered it to impress that floozy.

    "wonder if she got hurt as well..."

    No wait, the last thing he remembered was looking at the ceiling. It was a moot point what was the last thing he remembered however, as he had probably got an electrical blast, or a light beam, straight in the face and was now lying on the pavement on the street in front of the shop, his skin seared off and his face barely recognizable. The sound of the voice snapped him out of his rambling thoughts.

    "Your name please? Method of travel? Come now, wake up.  Least you could do. Come in here, wreck my routine...."

    Name? That's right, someone was probably trying to shake him back to life after his little accident. Probably the shopkeeper. But why was he speaking english in Norway? Perhaps he is a foreigner. Small alarms started going off in Hadrian's head. Why did a wet and damp Oslo city street feel dry and angular, instead of wet and rugged as it should feel. And why did his surroundings smell of dust and... paper? Furthermore, where had all the city sounds gone.

    "My name is Adr.... My name is Hadrian".

    Even as the words left his mouth Hadrian questioned why he had given up a different name. Hadrian was the latin ancestry of his given name, but why he had chosen to give that particular name he did not know. Hadrian tried to sit up and open his eyes, if he could, eager to see where the hell he was, although he couldn't begin to wonder what he would respond to 'method of travel'. Travel via electrocution perhaps?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:42, Thu 26 July 2007.

"Well, Hadrian, a Roman are we?"  He rattles something off in a different language. "No? Well here."  Footsteps come closer to you, and you open your eyes to see a balding man in a tunic and trousers.  He looks grumpy, but not dangerous.

He shoves into your hands a pad of paper and a feather.  You realize that you are draped uncomfortably over a large wooden chair with arms.  Straigtening up, you get a glance of the room.  To the left are aisles of books, perhaps a few thousand, and to your right is a closed door, and boxes of books on the floor against the wall of the circular room.  A cleared space in the center has a desk, and your chair or throne.

A window behind the desk makes motes of dust glint golden in the sunlight.

"Well, fill it out. I don't have all day.  I have to repair some books. Clumsy patrons don't know how to open a book cover. And you here to make my day more difficult."

You glance down at the pad, and for a second you see hierogylphics.  They swirl and rearange themselves into Norwegian.

--Name?
--Species?
--Gender, if applicable?
--Deity worshipped?
--Means of travel?

By this time, your head is spinning a bit...and that was just the first page.

PT

    He was in a circular room, like a section of a tower. Juding by his dusty and book-filled surroundings Hadrian found himself in a library or some sort of archive. He could agree with himself that it was at least a repository of knowledge. Hadrian accepted the pad and quill without questioning the strange man in any way, though his expression was one of complete bewilderment and confusion as he took the writing tool in his left hand and the item to be written upon in his right. He looked down to see the incomprehensible gibberish on the pad and his eyebrows raised with amusement. He could see something that resembled a rolling wave, an arm, an owl and three feathers lined up to form the first word. Before Hadrian could even begin to amuse himself further the words changed into Norwegian. However instead of freaking him out completely it amused him even further, and at this point he wore proudly an expression of glee.

    "It's like a combination of pop quiz and an application form."

    Hadrian gave the quill a little spin in his fingers to warm it up before he began writing on the pad, filling in the spaces with the information asked for.

    Name: Hadrian...

    What to put in as surname? After giving up a false given name Hadrian wasn't about to confuse himself further by adding his real surname to the pad. His friends had always said he was too self confident for his own good, it bordered arrogance. Pride. Superbia. He quickly penned down Superbia as his surname, completing the name Hadrian Superbia.

    "Wow, that sounds really... lame. I guess it is better than nothing though."

    Writing with ease and a slender hand Hadrian completed the first page of the pad.

    Species: Homo Sapiens
    Gender: Male
    Deity Worshipped: Undecided
    Means of travel: ...

    The last line had Hadrian stunted for a while. Means of travel? What on earth does that mean. Not knowing what to make of it he just filled it in with the first things that came to mind.

    Means of travel: Various animal locomotion over land.

   Feeling especially pleased with himself for his humour, despite the fact that all these unusual questions made his head spin a bit, not including the fact that he had just come to wake up in a highly unusual place removed from where he had been in Oslo, Hadrian browsed the pad to see if the other pages contained more questions.

"Titles Used?:
Are you an Adult?:
Are you a Free Man, Serf, Petty Nobility, Greater Aristocracy, Guild Member, Royalty, or Clerical? Check all that apply.:
Are you high or low or untouchable or military or clerical caste?:
Do you reincarnate?
Are you some form of immortal or personal and direct representative of a deity?
Are you a Citizen, Tax-Eater, Taxpayer, Subject, and do you have the Franchise? Check all that apply.:
Are you an ambassador or other form of envoy?
Do you bear a Letter of Marque and Reprisal?
Do you abide by the Code Duello?
Are you an author of original fiction, non-fiction, poetry of any sort? Please check all that apply.:

Note: All your rights and customs may be valid and useful in your local domain, but in the Tower of Rhodes and the City attached, the Rule of the High Magi is absolute.  Contest it at your peril.

Further addendum: Deliberate destruction of a book is a capital crime.  Negligent destruction may also be punished likewise depending on the level of negligence and the value of the book destroyed."

PT

Continuing without stopping to consider the complete ridiculousness of the entire situation, suddenly finding himself in library-ish surroundings after being mysteriously removed from an electronics shop in Oslo, Hadrian quickly read over the next set of questions and began scribbling away with his quill.

Titles used: Superbia
Are you an Adult: In age: Yes. In mind: No.
Are you a free man, Serf, Petty...etc? Check all that apply: Free Man.
Are you high or low or untouchable or military or clerical caste?: ...

Hadrian looked up from the pad and rested his eyes on the balding man who at the moment was the only other person in the room. For a sliver of a moment Hadrian considered where he was and how strange indeed the entire situation was.

"Excuse me my good sir, I seem to have initially forgotten my base manners. Can I impose upon you to tell me your name? And although this might seem as odd a question to you as this entire situation is to me, but where am I? And lastly, if I am not being too much of a bother to you sir, might you be persuaded to explain these questions to me, as I seem to understand neither their purpose nor the meaning in some of them."

Hadrian put on a disarming attempt of a smile, visibly confused but not alarmingly so.

Hadrian,
I should have mentioned this already, but I do one post a day, Monday through Friday.  You don't have an obligation to post on any particular day, and I have some players who take long breaks, and then come back--One of the Prime Rules on Worldwalker is "Real Life Takes Precedence".

So, see ya' on Monday. Have a good weekend.

Playtester

He sighs as if you are a great deal of trouble.

"I am Assistant Librarain Bookwise.  You are in the attic, my office, mine, unlike you wretched pan-dimensional invaders who disturb my peace, ahem, where was I, yes, the attic of the Tower of Rhodes, the finest library in the Multiverse no matter what those upstarts at Franklin's Home, or the Galactic Library, or even the poor untended quantum memories at the Wall at the End of the World, no this is the finest, the greatest libary in all time and space."

He pauses, and you can clearly see he's forgotten what the rest of your questions are.

"Any other questions are more properly directed to the Information Desk which is outside that door, and down the Great Tree to the ground floor lobby." He flusters out, and points a bony finger at the door.  Its clear his ability to tolerate human contact when he's not ranting is rather limited.

PT

Hadrian frowned and got up. He had hoped for a bit more cooperation but the little he received would have to do. The Tower of Rhodes, the Multiverse and pan-dimensional invaders meant little or nothing to Hadrian, and in that respect this assistant librarian Bookwise's help was worthless. With the quill and the pad still clutched tightly in his hands Hadrian moved past the piles of books and dusty scrolls, past the desk and towards the door on the right hand side of the room. He maneuvered the feather over in his other hand and grabbed the door handle with a clammy hand, a tingle of anticipation souring through his body. As he turned the handle and opened the door he thought to himself that this was easily more exiting than anything he had ever read in any book. With a fleeting glance back at the assistant librarian Hadrian scurried out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Before he knew the full meaning of it Hadrian decided to follow Bookwise's instructons to the letter: Down the Great Tree to the ground floor lobby to find the information desk.

You open the door, and step out.  The door begins to shut of its own accord behind you as you stare in surprise.

There is a small landing without rails.  It overlooks a vast empty cylinder ten stories tall.  On the walls of this cylinder are bookshelves filled with books all the way up and down.

The Great Staircase is a living, leafed tree with wooden steps attached to it with no railing again.  It spirals around the tree which trembles at the uttermost height where you reach the tree.

And in the depths beneath you there are flying rugs that zip by with passengers on them going to and from the staircase or just up and down, but all going to the books on the circular wall.

You can see a large desk on the stone floor ten stories down.  It looks to be an information desk.

PT

Hadrian stops in his tracks and his jaw plummets at the sight in front of him, leaving him gaping like a retard. He stopped himself just before starting to drool at the sight of the massive collection of books and refound his normal composure.

"This settles it. I have definately died and gone to heaven."

Walking very slowly and carefully, treating each step as a step on holy ground Hadrian started towards the tree. As he moves down the winding leafy staircase his eyes dart to and fro, eying the multitude of books with an academic hunger. At several places along the descent Hadrian caught himself stopping and feeling sorely tempted to step onto one of the levitating rugs, using this once in a lifetime chance to read to his hearts content. If this was any more than a dream however he would have to find out where he was, and judging from the flying carpets, impossible collection of books and other weird sights, what this place is.

Hadrian finished the climb down and proceded with a skip to his walk to the information desk. If he had tried he wouldn't have been able to contain his excitement, and as such the smile on his face and the gleam in his eyes are very obvious to spot, despite his obvious confusion.

"Excuse me. My name is Hadrian, and I seem to find myself in a bit of an awkward situation. I am not completely certain where I am. Assistant Librarain Bookwise upstairs explained where I was, in the Tower of Rhodes. But, where is that? Where on Earth am I?"

The matron behind the counter softens, and then smiles gently.

"You may find that you need to learn some jargon and details first before I can begin to answer that, or more properly, you figure out how to properly research the answer to that question.  But, I can make two points."

She raises a fleshy finger that no doubt has seen more than its share of pies being towed to its owner's mouth.

"One, 'Earth', 'Dirt', 'Land', 'Rock', and 'Home' are each a fairly common designate for the home dimension and planet of a visitor.  Since we are using linguistic spells, I'm unable to decipher what your home language is, even if I knew it.  So, my question is 'Which Earth are you from?'"

She pauses to let you absorb this and ask other questions.

Then she pulls out a large sheet of paper.  Its a map.

"Here, son. Keep this."

On the top in scrolling letters it reads.

"Map of the local universe containing The Tower of Rhodes and the City Attached."

She points at a spot just to your left about ten feet where there is a white mark on the ground.  She taps another spot on the center of the map.

"Thats the center of the universe.  This is the edge of the universe..."  She points to some fogs on the map encircling the City.  By the scale, it looks like she's claiming the universe is fifty miles across...

PT

Hadrian scratched his head and worked his mind to put this new information into explaining where he was from, in an attempt to figure out where he was.

"Well, my Earth is called Tellus. It is the third planet from the sun Sol in our solar system...

Wait did you say dimension? Librarian Bookwise called me a pan-dimensional invader. Am I in another dimension?"

Hadrian quieted down and soaked in the matron's descriptions of the map. He raised an eyebrow at the bold statement that the universe spanned just a mere fifty miles, but considering what he had just realized about dimensions this place might be an exterior dimension draped over his universe, in which case time and space might be distorted enough for the universe to actually be fifty miles across.

"Thank you very much for your help, but I still have one last thing to ask about."

He produced the pad and laid it nad his quill out on the desk in front of the the matron. The pad had only been partly filled out:

Name: Hadrian Superbia
Species: Homo Sapiens
Gender: Male
Deity Worshipped: Undecided
Means of travel: Various animal locomotion over land.

Titles Used?: Superbia
Are you an Adult?: In age: Yes. In mind: No.
Are you a Free Man, Serf, Petty Nobility, Greater Aristocracy, Guild Member, Royalty, or Clerical? Check all that apply: Free Man
Are you high or low or untouchable or military or clerical caste?: ...
Do you reincarnate?: ...
Are you some form of immortal or personal and direct representative of a deity?: ...
Are you a Citizen, Tax-Eater, Taxpayer, Subject, and do you have the Franchise? Check all that apply: ...
Are you an ambassador or other form of envoy?: ...
Do you bear a Letter of Marque and Reprisal?: ...
Do you abide by the Code Duello?: ...
Are you an author of original fiction, non-fiction, poetry of any sort? Please check all that apply: Original fiction, non fiction and poetry.

"Librarian Bookwise gave me this when I first... arrived, and I was wondering if you could explain some of these questions to me."

"Yes, another dimension or plane of existence.  There is a very good history, Acts of the High Magi in the Founding Era, in the green book section you might want to read on the creation of the Tower and City.  Its a good thousand pages, but worthy your time."

She looks away, thinking.

"Solar system, solar...you have a sun.  Is it coal or nu-cu-lar fu-s-ion?"

She looks mentally strained.

She looks at the pad.

"You're supposed to turn this in, not keep it.  Um, means of travel refers to how did you get here? Wizard gate, dreamwalking, d-port...etc., etc. Last I heard there was thirty-two officially recognized methods of cross-dimensional travel.  And you must not take Bookwise to heart, dearie.  He's a tad obsessive about his bookbinding, and rather...rude.  What exactly do you need me to explain about this list?  Its for us to understand our visitors, and the mindset they come from.  One can't use the same method of explanation for a horse knight who worships Wodin as for a mystic vegetarian mentalist after all."

PT

"I am not quite sure how I got here to be honest. I was in an accident and there was a bright light and the next thing I knew I was sitting in a chair upstairs with Bookwise.

As for the rest I don't know if I reincarnate as I haven't died yet... I think. I don't know what the Code Duello is. I am not a representative of any deity that I know of. I am not quite sure what the difference between high, low, military and clerical caste is and I don't know what the Franchise is or if I have it."

Hadrian scratched his head emphasizing that he truly and honestly was at a loss. At the same time that gleam in his eyes burned even stronger, proving that despite his lack of understanding he didn't really mind being here in this place.

"My mindset is... well. I would assume I am quite alike the people who built this place."  Hadrian said indicating the library around them with a wide circular gesture of his left hand.

"I strive for the pursuit of knowledge and information. To attain a higher level of understanding of the world through learning. I have spent most of my life devoted to litterature and debate. I am a writer of fictional litterature and an established and educated journalist."

"There are several books on dimensional travelling in the green section, but most are in the red.  And we have a lot of journals by various dimensional travellers.  We get quite a few, the structure of this universe seems to facilitate them finding us."

She nods.

"We, or at least some of us, reincarnate, others change, and some few live until they take the Endless Door Out.  The Code Duello is for avenging insults and damage in a duel with swords.  Usually its to first blood, but some people...we frown on it, but if both parties are willing, we allow it.  Well, since you say you are a free man, most of the time, that means you would not have an inherited birth status in your society.  The Franchise is some form of voting on major decisions in your society."

She smiles.

"Welcome to our little world then.  You seem just the type we're glad to have.  If you want to make some credit, you can talk to one of the scribes, and have him write down your stories for inclusion into the Library.  The pay is not great, but every little bit helps."

She points off to a small table where you see four young guys reading.

"The scribes on duty now.  Any more questions, Lord Superbia?"

PT

Hadrian listens intently, eagerly soaking up every word that leaves her mouth. From the looks of it he will be here for a while, and the more he can learn of this place and its society the better.

"Well if that is what the code duello is then I assume I will abide by it. If I, through accident or willfully, insult someone I encounter here I would be shamed to refuse them the chance to regain their honor. As I am new here I assume I have no claim to rights and benefits that are common to this society. Voting to name but one."

Hadrian, now less a stranger to this world than a few moments ago, smiles back and accepts the welcome.

"Thank you, I think I will do just that. I am ever grateful for your help. Without it I would be confused beyond measure in this place which is still slightly strange to me."

He finished off with an elegant nod of his head and a beaming smile.

Leaving the quill and pad, which he assumed he had no further need for, Hadrian headed for the scribe's table.

"Good day gentlemen! My name is Hadrian. Is it correct to understand that you are the scribes currently on duty?"

They leap to their feet, and assure you that they are.

They explain that the price for original works is one petite solidae for each finished page, about five hundred words.  Its customary to pay your scribe a tip of one petite per four pages, although if he makes a lot of mistakes, its also customary to reduce that.

Its possible to live on producing four thousand words per day if one is very frugal.

One may also receive a wide variety of awards for literary merit, innovative usages, most improved in the last month, most this and that, and the awards for these range from five petite to ten golden solidae with a couple golden solidae being enough to buy a decent horse.

One is allowed to produce editions of works made by other authors in your home dimension if the Library does not already have copies in your language.  However, such works have a much more limited array of awards they can choose from.  It tends to be limited to literary and philosophical merit.

They regale you with a tale of a writer who had hand-copied The Illiad and the Summa Theologica in his home dimension into a very obscure dialect.  He recopied it here, and earned enough to buy a cabin style house.

They are quite willing to write as you dictate.  And if you go fast enough, they naturally break the work down, and divvy it out amongst them with the kind of skill that comes from long practice.  Soon the scritching of quill pens amidst the murmur of your voice and the sips of warm water to keep your throat from drying out are your world...

PT

Hadrian smiled and politely and respectfully listened to the scribes as they explained. When they were finished he noded appreciatively, adding that it was very kind of them to initiate him in the prosess of their work, as it was his first time dictating any of his texts. Hadrian steadied himself and allowed the scribes time to settle down and prepare. When he noticed they were ready and looking to him to begin he started.

"This is a story I wrote when I was seventeen, a young boy still studying to become a non-fictional writer, a journalist, with dreams of some day writing proffesional litterature."

Hadrian cleared his throat and allowed himself a small sip from the glass of water designated him before he began dictating with an impressive force and eagerness.

"The story is about a man who has just had the harsh realities of life forced upon with the death of his father and his great love leaving him. He questions his purpose and yes, even the meaning of his very existence. We join our protagonist in the first chapter at the very lowest point of his life. He stalks the streets of Oslo, the capitol city of Norway, without aim or design."

    "- Alexander stepped out onto the cold street. The late winter air ripping at his skin with an intesity comperable only to the pain in his heart. Alex watched as his breath, white mist in the biting cold, evaporated before his eyes, and he mused how similar the display of fragility was to his own meager life. He looked down into his pale hands and the photograph he was so passionately clutching. It was of his late father. How close he had been to him. It all seemed so pointless now. Why cling to anyone or anything when everything, big and small, was so easily taken away? As if each important thing in his life was as fleeting as the blink of an eye...."

Hadrian continued to dicatate with passion. For each page he picked up in speed and intensity, though never reducing the detail and elaboration he formulated his sentences in. The only thing he paused for was to soothe his dry throat with water and make sure the scribes kept up with him. Hadrian's story followed Alexander for an entire year of his life, explaining in detail his quest to reveal that life was nothing but pain and suffering. It was an intelligent and reflecting text, where entire chapters were allocated Alexander's musings and contemplation on what the meaning of life truly was. Most of these psychological theories were tested by the main character who for the most part seemed bent on self-destruction. He attempted to find the meaning of life through narcotics, alcohol, self deprivation as well as physical and mental torture. The story was spiced up with several of the nightmares Alexander experienced after taking drugs in the dark belly of Oslo, in which he felt he was enlightened and that the truth was only a short grasp away. The story concluded after several twists and turns that each persons purpose was theirs to discover, that no one can be told what their purpose is and in the end that nothing is written in stone.

    "...I have discovered a new love now, someone to cherish and respect. A fellow dark soul that I saved in the defining moments of her life, who in turn saved me in mine. Together we have helped each other out of our downwards spiral of death. I thought that I would find the meaning of my life in pain and suffering, but she taught me differently. She showed me that finding my purpose was not done through my own pain, but through helping others with theirs. I am forever grateful that I managed to discover my purpose before it was too late, before I lost my life in my search. I have broken free of my pain. I have discovered why I am alive. The meaning of my life, is exactly that, to live. To live free. Free of anything holding me back. Free of my darkness. My life is freedom.

The End."

It wasn't until Hadrian stopped that he realized how incredibly tired he was. They had worked through the night, Hadrian straining his voice almost to the point of losing it, while the scribes had written furiously. The finished work amounted to something close to 320 pages of elaborate philosophical and psychological litterature. Now Hadrian's had to force his eyes open, feeling a strong desire to sleep forever.

"You have all done a very good job. I am astounded by your dedication and skill. Now that we are finished I suggest we all rest as we duly deserve."

By this point, your voice is a harsh croak despite the drinks of honey and lemonaide that were given to you as the night wore on.  Some of the scribes had dropped out, to be replace by other scribes.

You finish, and they stagger to their feet, dark circles under their eyes.

"Come, young masters. Follow me."  An older man with a candle ushers all of you with gentle care to the front doors of the library.  One of the scribes staggers and another catches him.

Your guide leads you out into the early morning light.  A vast tiered plaza leads out from the front doors of the Tower.  In the midst of the first tier, a statue seventy feet tall, and clad in gold catches your eyes.  Two figures, one a man with an Egyptian headress is holding a candle high.  The other, a woman is reading a book.

The guide leads you around those two, and down the plaza steps to the edge of the white marble.  He points to an inn fifty feet up the road, and then relenting takes you there.

Once inside, you smell oatmeal, and berry, and a hickory fire.  The rooms are full, but the inn owner tosses bearskin rugs down by the fire to join the few already there.

You don't remember laying down, and falling asleep.

Someone is shaking your foot.

"Would the young master care for a late supper?" A laughing female voice asks.

PT

((First things first. I managed to get my thoughts mixed up towards the end of the my last post. My excuse is that I wrote it at a very late hour. I was thinking that if Hadrian and the scribes worked hard through the night they would be able to produce somewhere around fifty pages. I summed that up and figured that 300+ pages in a weeks worth of work would also be possible, which would make a decent sized book. I somehow managed to get the first time period of one day and one night mixed in with the combined amount of pages, 320.

In the end I guess it will have to be up to you which figure to land on. I guess considering the scribes skill at what they do and Hadrian's background of using his voice, it could be possible to produce 320 pages in one complete day and night with enough scribes, although, as you point out in the beginning of your post, that would leave Hadrian with a heavily reduced voice.))

Hadrian wearily opened an eye. It was hard to keep it open but he somehow managed not fall back into sleep.

"Mmh... Late supper? Yes, that would be delightful."

With a tremendous feat of willpower Hadrian forced open the other eye as well, and even managed to prompt himself up into something that resembled a sitting position.

---

When told Hadrian will follow the female to the dining area of this cozy inn, only then realizing how famished he truly is.

Fifty pages is more reasonable.  I raised an eyebrow at 320, but figured in my ignorance that it might be possible, and let it pass.

The girl takes up your bearskin rug, and shows you around back to a sliced in half beer barrel.  The attached shed on the back is full of them.  Steam rises from the water.  Its just guys in the room.

"If you want a soak, that's included in the meal."

If you do, you find your clothes are quickly cleaned and steam-pressed as well.

The food is hearty, and the general eating room glows with brass fittings, and a black/white checkered floor.  You get set down with some others at a 'visitors' table.  The locals seem to spend a lot of time making jokes at each others expense.

Today, the food is a large mound of bread requiring two hands, sliced in half and filled with half a pound of roasted mutton??, butter, and a cooked and very strong tasting leafy vegetable that is dark green.  The side dish is a sweet and tart orange gel filled with pulp, and smeared over a hard cheese.  Drinks are very weak beer, or very strong coffee.

Hadrian accepted the bath happily. After the long nights work he felt like he could do with a proper wash. For a while he lay there letting the steaming water wash away all of his troubles. The feeling of the smooth liquid on his body removing all stress and tension. Lying so still and calm Hadrian could for the first time since he came to this strange place finally allow himself to sort out his thoughts and try to decide what to do next. So far he had only acted as the oppertunities were presented to him like beads on a string. Now he felt that he needed a more definite plan if he was to pull through.

"I feel like I am supposed to obsess myself with finding a way back home. But I can't really get my head around that prospect. I like it here. It is different, better even, than home. If I can get that book finished by the week I will probably have enough money to get myself sorted out in this place... God I don't even know what this place is called. I know it is the Tower of Rhodes and the city attached. But is that the name of just this place, or this entire world.

That lady in the tower mentioned linguistic spells. Magic. Is it any different from the miracles and religions of earth? I should try to keep my eyes open for the time being and focus on earning money. I do not doubt that, like any other place, where there are people there is a need for liquidity."

Before Hadrian could muse any more his clothes were brought back to him, freshly cleaned and pressed. He felt thoroughly relaxed and decided that it was about high time to eat, as he had not filled his stomach since his feet had been firmly planted on his home planet.

To a starved mouth and stomach the food was heavenly. Hadrian stuffed himself with bread, roasted meat and vegetables, stopping only to force some of the larger bites down with strong coffee that tasted almost like home. Despite his obvious gluttunous behavior Hadrian kept his wits about him enough not to break with common manners, so although everyone could clearly see he had not eaten in a while, his fast paced dining was not outwardly offensive to anyone. When he was near full and done with the main course, and received a refill of coffee, Hadrian slowed himself down and enjoyed the sweet side dish as a dessert. As he slowly consumed the last of his food Hadrian directed his attention to the others on his table, taking in their manners, clothing, behavior and general demeanor. As he would have done anywhere he felt like a stranger Hadrian tried to learn as much about his surroundings as possible. Because, as always, knowledge is power.

Looking about the inn, you're struck by how pleasant, and prosperous it looks.  Most of it is in a symphony of brown with various leathers and woods.  But all of it sparkles from the brass railing at the bar to the wagon wheel chandelier with candles that serve as lights.

Its very middle class with families involved, but instead of conversing about TV sitcoms they seem to live one with a constant flicker of japes at each others expense.  They do talk a little sports with a discussion of today's game of streetball between Dorm A and the Wildcat Hall students.  But much of the conversation is about books.

Talking flows between the heavy wooden tables.  The most common wear is brightly colored tunics and loose leggins although you see a man in the corner dressed in a three-piece suit, and a lady wearing a gold lame' dress.

The people at your table are aggressively friendly,voluble, and energetic.  They try to draw you out about yourself, and what you think about the City.  They seem to expect that you are an extra-dimensional since you dress so different.

The sense of humor runs from puns to caricatures to sticking green beans up one's nose among the younger set.

PT

Hadrian put on his best social-face and beamed a smile back at his table companions. He was not surprised they tried to pull him into their conversation as he had a slight idea that because he looked so vastly different from them in appearance he was probably exposed to their attention, as well as their sometimes tasteless jokes about each other.

"My name is Hadrian. I am a writer from a place called Tellus."

Hadrian noticed how they ate up his every word, overpolitely interested in everything that left his mouth. Hadrian would be damned if he was about to let this chance to be the centre of attention slip, and instead of deflating their unfounded interest in him, he fueled it.

"If I am to speak from the dephts of my heart I must admit that I find the Tower of Rhodes and the city attached absolutely beautiful. An architectural masterpiece to be exact. So clean and organized. Tis' probably on of the most appealing worlds I have ever visited.

I took the liberty last evening to begin on a book of my own that is to be included into the library. When it is done I think you will all find it most intriguing, as it is a tale from my home world."

Hadrian revelled in the seat he had taken as focus point for the entie table. If he played his cards right maybe he could even make a name for himself in this city. That thought did not displease him.

They listen with enthusiasm more than they show each other, but still you note they listen to each other more than you would expect from back home.

They burst out laughing, one of them falling out of his chair at your comment on how clean and organized the city is.  Once they are finished whooping, and repeating your comment to the room which breaks out laughing as well, one of them explains.

"In parts. In parts.  The Tower, of course, and the Temple, and most of the inns and cafe's except of course for the Flicker Inn, but there are many places where different rules apply, and let me tell you, you really don't want to find yourself in the Gordian Knot."

They like your comment about finding the city beautiful, and they wholeheartedly agree.

"Its just, if I may give you a word of warning, tis more beautiful than it is safe.  But if you stick to the main roads, off the riddle paths, and in the green or yellow section of the library you should be okay."

"And never get into a streetball match with Dorm Two, they're maniacs."  Another pipes in.

They ask you about your book, and your writing, and soon enough they are pestering you to stand on your chair, and give a dramatic reading to the room.  You've seen one guy do this already with a bit of poetry that you found to be okay, and he received great applause, and a free meal.

PT

Hadrian, comfortable with the interest he was being shown, decided that this was his chance to flip the conversation around and perhaps learn something of this city he was in.

"I will entertain you with some of my writing, but first I require something of you. After all one cannot receive anything for nothing. If you tell me more about the city I will grace you with a story worthy of your time."

Slightly regretful that he was no longer masquerading the worldly and wise traveller, now rather the nosy and information-desperate stranger, Hadrian began to bombard his new friends with a series of questions.

"Why would I want to stay away from the red sections of the library? What is there to fear among the books there? Also, I am interested in this streetball sport you mention? And if I am not being too bold, which dangers are there to be found in  the more shady parts of the city, this Gordian Knot you mention for one? I would like to know more of what I should be wary of while I am here."

Hadrian hoped that he wasn't sacrificing his fame and bravado by being so enquiring, but even so he wanted information a bit more than he wanted attention.

They gladly shift to explaining their much-loved city to you.

"Oh, the red books, well all the books except for the green have spirit wardens.  One has to defeat such a warden to read the book.  Bribe him, outgame him, or fight him.  But unless you're willing to pay outrageous prices it usually comes down to betting your life."  Jack speaks.

"Riddle yourself this.  How does the High Magi get the power to create a pocket universe? Where does the mana come from?  It comes in part from the voluntary martyrdoms of those who love knowledge a little too much.  Few deeds have more magic power than voluntary self-sacrifice of a human life."  Maurice explains.  "I don't think its evil although some people do.  I just think you'd better know what you're doing."

They describe streetball with some enthusiasm.  It seems to be the only sport that is widely played although there are some indoor sports, and walking is always popular.  It seems a primitive and much more violent version of soccer played on the city streets with no out of bounds and with a limit on players for a side of one hundred.  Matches usually last for two to five hours.  The number of broken bones is usually about ten.

The Gordian Knot is the worst part of town they proclaim.  Its not a pleasant place where gamblers and loose women hang out (they whisper this for fear the others in the inn will hear).  It doesn't help.  A big farmer next to you laughs and loudly repeats the comment.  It seems your adviser on 'loose women' has very little experience in the subject.

The farmer grunts after getting down messing with Jack.

"Look, friend, the Knot its dangerous. Murders. Kidnappings. Slavers. Worse its hard to get out of.  Its like it sucks you in, and you find yourself getting lost. Don't know as I hold with those who say there is a demon prince at the center of the Knot and all who meet him are damned, but its a nasty place.  Many of the people there can't read."

Jack leans forward.

"We could take you on a tour of the town.  See some things.  The Door, the Glass Bridge, see the sword and the sorcerors riot, maybe visit Rose University and the Egg...if you got some cash.  We can do the rest on our own hook with you as our guest, but the customs officers want good gold for visitors to Rose and Egg, and I can spring you a few silver, but not a gold, you understand, I'm sure."

PT

((I noticed that you had suddenly named the people I was dining with. Seeing as only Hadrian has introduced himself so far I felt I had to ask for their names, or else I might slip up and call them by their names without actually knowing them.))

Listening intently on the explanation of the red books Hadiran raises an eyebrow in interest. Just from the little he was told Hadrian decided that if red books were guarded as heavily as that, they had to contain some valuable information. Perhaps even something that he could aquire for himself in due time.

"What kind of books are designated red? Or to be more precise, what kind of information does these books contain that they need to be protected in such a fashion?"

The mention of magic irritated Hadrian a bit, seeing as he knew nothing of it. However the fact that magic was more than something mystic and obscure in this world appealed to him. The mention of a pocket universe clarified some things for Hadrian. It did at least explain why the lady behind the information desk pointed out the universe to stretch for a mere fifty miles, he must be in a pocket sized universe that didn't really extend any further than that.

Their description of streetball reminded Hadrian of how soccer used to be in its infantile state, a primitive and brutal sport that was more a way to civilise rivalry between villages and people than an actual sport.

"I would love to take you up on your offer to show me the city. However I do not have money to pay for myself at this time. I suspect that once my book has been finished I will be paid a modest sum of money. More if it is well received.

Perhaps I can have your names so that I may call upon you at a later time to take you up on your offer? We have shared a table, eaten together and spoken together. Soon I will even perform some of my works. If this does not make us friends I know not what will."

OOC: I figured not every detail of the conversation was described, so I'd skip them introducing themselves.  Your view is reasonable.

The more detailed, more well regarded, dangerous subjects etc are detailed.  There is enough in the green to get a decent basic education, and to do popular level studies of some topics of interest.  The yellow advances this.

You could not get a Master of Knowledge in a field without going into the red unless you were very ingenious, or your Knowledge was trivial.

Some of its protection, and some of its a way to gather mana for the library.

They tell you that you should have been paid.  One gets paid for completed sheets of paper.  Jack waves down the waitress, and whispers to her.  She smiles and comes back with a small bag of coins.

"It was left by the Librarian for you when you awoke."

Inside you see a note.

'Fifty pages at a petite solidae each.  I've substracted thirteen solidae to pay your scribes.  Hopefully this was done well.  I've changed your monies for ease into three silver solidae, and the remainder is seven petite solidae.  Your book sounds most excellent. Welcome to the Tower of Rhodes. Librarian Readingman.'

They introduce themselves. Jack who is a bit pompous, and a big guy with an friendly, easy manner.  Maurice who speaks with vibrant enthusiasm sometimes not thinking before he speaks.  Gregor who keenly studies everything, and weighs it back and forth in his mind for much time.

PT

Hadrian smiles brightly at his three newfound friends. Unseen to them his mental lips grins hungrily as he considers the implementations of what knowledge the books in the red sections contain. Even in a strange far-away place that he has not yet come to terms with Hadrian cannot surpress his inner urge to learn and learn with seemingly no regard for the consequences. His lusts go as far as to make Hadrian want to take a closer look at these red books despite the fact that he does not fully believe that this is a real place.

"I will definately take you up on your offer at a later time Jack, Maurice and Gregor. Before anything else however I would like to finish the book I have started, as I am sure the situation of my liquidity will become much improved at that time. Also, I think that once I have become more at ease in this place I will have a look at what I can learn in your obviously extensive libraries."

Hadrian accepted his payment with much eagerness. He had not expected to be paid so early, as it would have been unthinkable for him to recieve money in Norway for an unfinished work. Feeling the hard coins in his hand made him even more determined to finish his book and become more financially settled before doing anything rash, even by his standards.

"Now, I do believe I promised you a story..."

Hadrian pulled out his seating and climbed on top of it with certainty. He adjusted his clothes and cleared his throat, which was still sore from the past nights hard work. Despite his limitations though Hadrian started with a voice that had an unmistakable tone of humour and sarcasm in it.

"Once upon a time there was a man who had far too many worries and far too little joys in his life to soothe these worries with. He had a wife that cursed more loudly and harsly than a harpy, a mistress who demanded even more of him than his wife, a good-for-nothing son who refused to do anything he was told and higher-than-life friends who expected him to be both married and bachelor at the same time. As you all can image, this man was unhappy. One day, having barely escaped his wife's scornful lip and later on his mistress's vile clutches, the man was walking in the woods to try and ease his worries. It helped somewhat, and for once the man knew nothing of bickering wives, demanding mistresses, unhelpful sons and troublesome friends. In his moment of complete contentness the man stumbled over a magic bottle. Upon rubbing the bottle a spirit appeared and promised the man that he would fulfill one wish, whatever that may be. The man contemplated for some time what to wish for. Did he want his wife to never again utter a single word? Did he want his mistress to disappear forever? Did he want his son to work harder at home? Or did he simply want his friends to be more considerate of the strained situation of his life. Pondering back and forth the man could simply not bring himself to deside what to wish for. Eventually he realized what it was he truly wanted. The one thing that would truly bring joy to his life...

...The man wished for a jug of fine cold ale. The spirit obliged and the man recieved a jug of the finest ale he had ever tasted. Sipping his ale the man walked home to his hag of wife, his burden of a mistress, his disappointment of a son and his false friends. Strange as it may seem, the man was content. The moral of this story is, my friends, that no matter how hard your life is, and how bad things may seem, you can always count on a jug of ale to set things all aright!"

Hadrian finished his story with a flourish, a theatrical gesture of himself downing a massive drink of ale, to provide the punchline for his hopefully amusing story. Hadrian dropped down from his perch and rejoined his friends.

"Aye, they are extensive. I've never heard of a library that is larger."  Jacks says, kicking back in his chair.

Everyone listens eagerly to your story.  They laugh boisterously at the end with one fellow falling out of his chair.  And when things calm down, they all salute you with a small sip of their various mugs of beer (even the teenyboppers--the young children have milk.)

The waitress comes by, and winks at you.

"All right, pay up. Pay up. The Storyteller gets his meal and night free."  Everyone pulls out various coins, and pays her.  People start gathering their things together, and over the next half-hour most everyone leaves.

One little boy tells you a knock-knock joke, and then gets ushered out.  The room is quieter, and rugs are being put out for those to sleep tonight.  Lamps are dimmed except in one corner of the room where late night readers seem to gather.

Your friends ask you again if you want to wander the town, and then leave.  There is a stack of scrolls and books near the reader's table.

The man in a three-piece suit waves you over.  His well-dressed lady in the gold lame' smiles as well.

"You seem a hi-tech sort of person.  Do you know anything about fixing a steam engine for a dirigible.  You see my mechanic ran off, and I'm not very handy at this sort of thing."

PT

Hadrian, already a bit hot-headed from the way his story was received, felt hot blood rush to his face when he saw the waitress wink at him. Every male instinct in his body told him to go after her, but ,whether it was cowardice, the fact that the room was packed with people or simply a severe lack of spontaneity, Hadrain did not.

After declining yet another attempt at getting him to come with them Hadrian got up and started to look for his rug. Before he manages to do anything in that regard however he catches a waving hand in the corner of his eye. A man he had noticed before was geturing for him to come over. Hadrian complied, seeing no reason not to.

"High-tech... maybe in this place... Steam technology isn't what I'd put under high-tech though."

"I have some experience with engines, not necessarily steam engines and most certainly not with airship engines. Perhaps if you could explain what kind of problems you had before the dirigible broke down I might be able to help? What would be even better is if you know what ails the machinery in question."

Noticing the finer clothes on the man and his wife Hadrian pondered the possible benefits from helping this man, and even though he had sounded quite convinced he might be able to help he hoped that the problem would be something he could find reference to in a standard ingnition car engine.

"We were pushing to get ahead of a Vortex Storm, and so we had the the engine cherry red.  Happily we made it through the High Gate, and into  this dimension before the storm came and smeared us into tiny little pieces along the Windy Corridor."  The man began.

"At this point, our mechanic, a rather high tempered man began to shout and scream in his barbaric native tongue.  He refused to work further on the engine, and we had to be towed in at great expense and humiliation by the locals.  After that, he took what pay my darling husband offered him, and left to dissapear into the crowds.  The ungrateful wretch."  The woman replies with a very strange accent.

"Yes, I am Lord Comte, and this is my Elisabeth.  The engine, it shrieks loudly now, and no matter how much coal we put in, it never develops proper pressure.  I am no handyman, but a philosopher, and a natural philosopher.  High tech like steam engines defeats me.  I long for the peaceful days of my grandfather when watermills were the highest techne."

PT

Hadrian listens intently and nods every once in a while. He notes the unfamiliar names the man mentions: Vortex Storm, High Gate, Windy Corridor. Although these names seem strange to his spectre of knowledge his subconscious works furiously to associate them with something he can understand. His thoughts drifts as he listens and images flicker through his minds eye: A large storm following behind a large ship trying to get through an inlet and into port before being caught in the storm.

Somehow thinking about what he suspects is the nautical equivalent to what the lord was talking about made it easier to concentrate.

"Shrieking and no pressure you say? To me it sounds like you have a tear somewhere in the engine. Some hole or break that ruins the integrity of the whole.

Unless you have seen any jets of steam coming from the engine I would have to suggest you check to see if the packaging between the valves and tubes are ruined. If you use non-metallic substances to seal the engine they would probably not survive the amount of heat it must have been subjected to. There is also the possibility that the heat has twisted the metal such that the joints are no longer completely tight."

Having finished his musings Hadrian smiles and nods acknowledgedly at Lord Comte.

"My name is Hadrian, a fellow gentleman, writer and philosopher. A true pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you madam, absolutely ravishing!"

Having said his piece Hadrian bows slightly towards the lord and lady.

"He sounds most knowing, milord."  The lady flickers a flattered smile back at you.  Lord Comte nods in agreement.

"Yes, as I said, I'm not a handyman, but I wonder if you could help out a fellow philosopher.  Come to our dirigible, the Iron Lady, and help us discern the problem, and hire some workers to fix it.  I wouldn't expect a gentleman like yourself to dirty his hands, of course.  We're tied off to one of the arches on the Glass Bridge.  If you could drop by say in the morning, that would be ever so helpful."

The Lord Comte turns back to his drink, and Elisabeth begins to ask him about the food.  You realize you've been aristocratically imposed upon, and dismissed.  The waitress is over at the bar cleaning out mugs with a towel, and speedy effort.  She waves cheerfully at you.

Once you wander over.

"Hey, welcome to the Edge Inn, as in 'edge of the Plaza' which is the position we take most of the time.  I liked your story.  My name's Helen."

She seems energetic, determinedly cheerful, and a bit flirty.  Her hair is golden, and curled, and she keeps a rag to the side to occasionally wipe the sweat off her face.

"Hey, unlike the Lord and Lady, I'm not afraid of honest work."  She whispers.
PT

Hadrian considered himself lucky. He had just been about to offer to come to the dirigible and fix its engine himsel when the lord had commented that he should hire someone to do the work: "I wouldn't expect a gentleman like yourself to dirty his hands, of course". It seemed that this place's concept of manners and gentlemen was more alike the victorian british standard than the modern practice.

Hadrian did not want to lose potential standing by saying something stupid, and thus it was very hard for him to remain silent when he was so rudely dismissed, especially when a few juicy comments immediately popped into mind. He was imeasurably relived when the waitress waved him over, as he was as unwilling to force the conversation onwards as he was to leave of his own volition. Recognizing her as the waitress who had winked at him earlier Hadrian casually walked over with a cheerful step and a matching smile.

"Hello Helen, my name is Hadrian. What do you mean by most of the time? Does the inn move around?" Hadrian said with a sort of boyish cute tone of curiosity.

Hadrian leans in closer to hear what she whispers to him. Reading her words in all the wrong ways, though determined not to rush ahead, Hadrian ran his left hand smoothly over the surface of the bar in front of him.

"I may look and sound more like their sort, but I am not one to shy away from hard work either. Back where I lived... before... writing was not something one could easily live off. I used to work on the production floor of a small fish oil refinery. It was hard and smelly work, but very gratifying."

Hadrian stopped all of a sudden, realizing he was taking the conversation in completely the wrong direction talking about smelly fish oil. In an attempt to course correct back to a more flirtatious tone Hadrian began asking Helen about herself.

"You seem at ease. I take it you live here in the city? Are you pleased?"

His cheeks turn a shade more red and he puts on an ackward smile as Hadrian begins to fear he is making a fool of himself. Although he handles himself well in most situations, there is just something about the other sex that makes him lose his nerve.

"Well,  yes, like most of the City, but it does it less than most.  We're pretty stable." She looks at your hand with a smile, and then flips it over to expose any callouses. "Just so, sound body, sound mind. The Lord and Lady are not from around here.  They are visitors from Gothika, another dimension.  They're not bad people, not like some Gothikans who are simply beasts, but they are not of the City or the Tower or even the Rose and Egg who are different people, but still much like us.  Still, I like to meet strange people."

She gives you a direct glance trying to figure if there is a subtext to your questions.

"Yes, I live in a small boarding house which is usually within a mile of the Inn.  And I could not imagine living anywhere else. The City is the greatest place in all the Multiverse.  Its not like I'm missing something. Strange people from all over the Multiverse come to us, to read our books.  So I get the best of both worlds, I get my home, and I get novelty.  Some people go on trips to nearby dimensions, but me, wandering the City is enough."

It may be your overactive imagination, but you definitely get the feeling she'd like to be asked to wander the City.

PT

Hadrian suddenly felt misplaced and clumsy. He had spoken with women before, and he had also flirted rougishly with them. So why did he feel like this all of a sudden. Once again Hadrian's awkwardness with women was confirmed to him, and he considered for a moment to move into the mountains and become a hermit. If this place even had mountains.

"Would you like to walk with me in the city? I am a stranger here you see and... well... of course if you have to work..."

He stopped and took her in with a hopeful gaze. It wasn't often that Hadrian's facade cracked, but he was happy it had happened with this charming girl and not while talking to the pompous lord and lady.

She grins like a sunrise that catches you by surprise, and hands you a towel.  Soon enough you're wiping dry mugs.  Thankfully the Lord and Lady have left by now to go to bed.

About twenty minutes later, all the dishes are dry.  She flashes you another smile, and runs off.  Ten minutes later, she's back, with a clean tunic on, and an amber necklace that plays up her golden hair, and sapphire earings in her ear lobes that provide a striking contrast.

She takes you out, and you both wander the City.  She points out various sites.  She greets courteously a stone gargoyle atop a fence although it neither talks back or responds in any way.  She leads you into an alley where you both are accosted by people with palely luminescent faces demanding a love poem.

Once free, you look downhill to see a Great Glass Bridge shaped like half of the Brooklyn Bridge, and the the other half merges with the fogs that surround the city.  Atop one of the cable towers is an airship moored down.

"Only the brave or the foolish cross that bridge.  If you have a vision in your heart, and a will stronger than steel, you might come back with new soil on your fingers.  But most don't come back."

PT

Hadrian didn't mind helping out cleaning up. The work helped him clear his mind and sort everything he had learned today. The pieces were slowly starting to fall into place and, crazy as the concept seemed to Hadrian, it began to dawn on him that he was in fact in a world different from his earth, indeed another dimension of existance altogether.

The walk was refreshing, further lifting Hadrian's mind of the mental burdens it had been toiling with. He didn't say much except when spoken to, and when he absolutely needed to speak up in an attempt to not seem lost and confused. When they came to the glass bridge however Hadrian's natural curiosity got the better of him.

"New soil? So that glass bridge and the fog, that's how people travel to and from this place from other dimensions?"

Hadrian walks closer to the bridge with an excited sparkle in his eyes. Helen said she liked meeting strange people, but even she couldn't image the tingling sensation Hadrian felt in his stomach as he investigated this world that was entirely strange to him.

"Well no. I mean there are Ways, such as the one taken by the dirigible, but this, this is something altogether different.  Sometimes the magic of the High Magi provides a focus for new pieces of dimensions to attach to the core.  At one time, this place was just the tower, the Library of Alexandria.  Over time, chunks accreted to it.  But this is even more strange than that...here you can create a section of a new world, out of what you have in your own heart.  But, who knows what evils lie within your own heart, and who knows if you will be strong enough, wise enough to master the Fogs of Indeterminacy and grasp the power of a god even if only for a few minutes.  I am too content to do this.  It seems to me one has to have a discontentment and a furious desire to tempt fate, and stick your hand into the fires of creation."

She shrugs, her hands resting on her belt.

"Now, I do know a few Ways to take you to other worlds if you like.  They cost good silver unless you're volunteering to go on a Book Retrieval Run.  Of course, the Flicker Cafe' is cheaper, but once it shifts, you can't get back.  However, I've met the strangest people in it."  Her voice goes up with enthusiasm at the end.

PT

Hadrian raises his hand and begins scratching his chin.

"So you are saying that it is possible to create pocket universes by walking into that fog?, a hint of keen interest in his voice.

Letting his hand descend down to the confines of his pocket Hadrian lets his eyes rest on Helen and smiles softly as he listens to her talk about the Flicker Cafe'.

"I would love to go to new places and meet, as you say, strange people. But right now I'd like to see this place, and learn what I can here. Also, I must say, the company here is significantly better than anywhere else I've been."

Hadrian ended with a slight, unintended blush. He turned his head away in what he hoped would look like an attempt to take a second glance at the bridge.

Despite wanting more than anything to stay in the here and now Hadrian couldn't stop himself from letting his mind wander again. He considered the possibility of new worlds. Was alternate dimensions really so commonplace here? If he could only get some more control over the situation.

He needed to learn more about this place. This dimension.

Dimension. Was he really willing to accept that possibility as truth, that he was in another dimension? His rational mind had no other answers for him, and although he found the prospect hard to believe from a scientific mindset his inner writer soured with the possibility of dimensions existing together all around the universe. An urge to visit the library suddenly sprung to life inside Hadrian. Once his book was finished he would have the financial means to properly investigate everything in this place.

"Something like that, yes, I guess.  They attach to the larger one here...I guess you're right.  I never quite looked at it that way, but that describes what I know."  She raises a hand. "But before you get too excited...its majorly dangerous.  Most City dwellers wouldn't hazard it."

She smiles with pleased delight at the compliment.

"You're so sweet.  Probably have a girlfriend in every dimension."  She ends with a bit of tart.

She takes you on further.  You see a much-scarred park which shows nothing since its night.

"The sorcerors and the swords are rival orders, and really, a bunch of thugs, the whole lot of them, but they mostly confine their abuse to each other.  They have duels on this field, daily.  Magic bolts,a nd clanging steel..."  She shudders a bit.

You and her wander past another inn.  Music is coming from within.

"I'm parched." She says.

PT

Hadrian echoes her words, his lips moving unintentionally with his toughts.

"Magic bolts and clanging steel..."

Hadrian turns his attention on the inn. Hearing the attractive music and almost feeling the warm inviting light on his face he simply could not bring himself to refuse the lady's obvious request.

"I have no idea what they charge for wine around these parts, but I'm sure I can afford a decent glass or two for the lady on my meager fortune"

With an elegant and largely unnecessary gesture towards the inn Hadrian added <b>"Shall we go in?"<b>

You walk in, find a table in the crowded room, and realize its a local nightclub.  Its hot and noisy, and there are couples dancing when they are not sitting at high tables drinking and eating small sandwhiches.

Its more expensive than the Edge Inn, but its still quite reasonable.  You're easily able to afford the visit.

One difference is that its not nearly as noisy as a modern nightclub.  You can actually hear each other talk rather than having to use sign language.  The music is provided by a trio of harp and flute and drum.  The drummer wanders around trying to encourage patrons to tip, and asking anyone if they have favorites as he continues to play.

And you do see a couple of guys get angry about a girl, and pretty soon, one has a broken nose. Shortly thereafter a large human? female, near seven foot,  is propelling them both outside by tugging on their ears.

PT

Hadrian sits calmly letting his eyes drift back and forth to take in the entire scene around him as he sips his cheap drink. Hadrian had ordered the cheapest he could find, though, always the gentleman, he let Helen indulge in something a bit finer and more expensive. He was actually less fascinated by this place then he was by the Edge Inn, because different as it might be, this place was more similar to the world he had left behind. Crowded, noisy and violent.

Hadrian does not really try to engage in any lengthy conversation for some time. He simply asks Helen the occational question about herself and her world and what kind of society it is.

After the behemoth of a woman finished her display of tossing the troublemakers out however Hadrian decides to be a bit more forward with his entourage, delving into a topic he had been dying to find out more about for some time.

"Can you tell me more about the magic of this world? One of the people I was sharing table with at the Edge Inn, Maurice was his name, mentioned gaining mana through the spirit wardens of books in the library. Do you know much about this, you see I am greatly fascinated by it all?"

She tosses her hair back, and looks at you with a studying glance.

"Lets go outside."  She gets up.

Once you're outside, or you've persuaded her to stay, she begins to speak.

"Most visitors tell us how much magic we have around us.  I have a comb that cleans itself because its inhabited by the spirit of a beetle.  I walk the Riddle Paths on occasion.  I know how to cast a spell to make sure my teapot never boils over.  You and I both had converse with Shades in that alley."

She pauses again.

"The beetle comb I understand was made by a priest of Ra Candleholder.  The Riddle Paths are the creation of the Fey.  My teapot spell is ...simple wisewoman folklore.  The Shades are a product of a botched necromantic spell.  I'm not a mage by any means, but I probably know or use twenty different spells on a daily basis.  At least how I think you mean it.  Am I using a spell when I talk to a stone gargoyle?  Its still alive.  One time it moved as I do.  In time, I will be as it."

She curls a lock of hair around her finger.  "Mana is merely one method of magic.  But the High Mages used a mana-powered spell to give life to the Collossus of Rhodes, and have it carry the Library of Alexandria to here in this new place.  So, to repair the spell, they need mana.  But my teapot spell requires no mana.  Some spells do, some don't.  Does that help?"

PT

Hadrian got up and walked out with his companion, offering no complaint to the sudden change of scenery.

Politely he listens and nods as she explains. If she looks closely a faint gleam, like that of an exited child, can be seen in the depths of his two grey orbs.

"Thank you, it helped a lot..."

"...I hope you don't think ill of me because of all the questions I ask." Hadrian says, letting out a sigh.

Hadrian let his gaze meet hers and held it. All of a sudden he seemed a bit more sombre and grave as opposed to the cheerful demeanor he had put up in the Edge Inn.

"Can I be completely honest with you? I know you must be used to meeting new and interesting people all the time living here... and in fear of seeming simple and lost I have not been completely honest with you."

"A man not being completely honest with a girl? Will wonders never cease?"  She teases you at first, but then sobers as she looks at your face.  "All right then, Hadrian Superbius, speak.  Although I would like to say first that I've had a marvelous time showing you my city, and I hardly would mind answering your questions.  Such interesting questions they are."

PT

Hadrian smiled rather foolishly, like a blissfully ignorant child.

"I am glad that you enjoy my company, as I enjoy yours as well. And if you find my questions interesting then what I want to tell you will explain why I have so many of them."

He turned around and looked down the street with a sigh. Even as he spoke he didn't turn back, in fear of letting her see the completely lost look on his tiring face.

"I have absolutely no idea where I am or how I came to this place. The last thing I remember is that I was talking to a girl, much like I am with you now, and then there was a bright light. The next thing I knew I was in the tower of Rhodes, and everyone acted as if me suddenly appearing was the most natural thing in the world.

I may have acted the part of a wordly dimensional traveler, but truly I am not!

I want you to understand that all this..." he gestured across the winding street while he cast her a glance over his shoulder. "...is a lot for someone of my origin to take in. Magic, alternative dimensions and living gargoyles. I am a fairly simple man, I accept what I see. But I will need some time to truly be able to take in this... magnificent world!"

He turned around to face her again. He smiled softly and let out a kind laugh.

"I hope you understand my predicament."

"Surely." She bows her head a bit. "Hadrian, you're not the first person to fall into this world. Most other worlds are different, I gather.  Here, well, we have visitors from other dimensions quite often. And the most famous gate in is the one in the attic of the Tower of Rhodes.  All manner of beings come through there.  Which is not to say that you're common as dust.  But rarely a season goes by without someone falling throught the Attic Gate.  If I understood Dimensional Structure, I could explain it to you, why we have such a large influx of visitors, but that requires years of study."

She bites the end her fingernail in thought, and then shakes her head.

"The thing to do is to visit the Library.  There are books there.  I'm positive they have tales of other people who came like you did.  Diaries of stranded travellers.  Even analytical studies on the various types of dimensional travellers."

She takes you by the arm, and leads you through the City.  Sometimes, she retraces her route and comes to a different road than the one she had left.  One time, you and her skip down a hopscotch design in the road, and when you finish the road has turned from cobblestones to red brick and the pubs are changed for Tudor houses.

And now you're at the base of the Grand Plaza which leads up to the Tower of Rhodes.


PT

Hadrian didn't mind being led around, although a small part of him couldn't help but feel like a helpless child. By now he had time to fully appreciate and digest the constantly shifting city, and with an almost revering tone he muttered,

"This truly is a marvelous city you live in!"

As they skipped along new and exiting routes Hadrian seemed to brighten up considerably, and it was not long before he began to speak in a soft and melodious voice.

"I've been thinking a lot about the library today. If what the kind people at the Inn told me is true then I will be sure to find everything I need there. Maybe I can even read up on magic!

And after that I can even finish the book I started."

Hadrian didn't smile, he didn't say he was relieved, but the pitch of which he ended the sentence with spoke for him.

"Oh yes. They spoke truly, I would think."

Helen and you walk into the Library.  The Staircase Tree sways in front of you.  The Information Desk is off to your right.  The white marble in the floor that designates The Center of the Universe is just in front of you.

There are less students now in the middle of the night than at other times, but the place hums quietly with activity.  Rugs lift up carrying passengers.

"Would you like to learn a spell?" Helen says pointing to a rug.  "Climb on, and say..." A long string of words spills from her mouth in an unfamilar language.  "Its Sumerian for 'Great Lord Enki,of your kindness, bear me up on this rug so that I may learn.'"


PT

Once inside the large library Hadrian turned to Helen and explained to her which topics he would like to research.

"I'd like to know more about magic... nothing difficult. Perhaps something dealing with linguistic magic as well. I will also need to read into dimensional travel. I don't know which books might be useful there, but seeing as the only clues I have are that I was victim to spontaneous relocation and that it came as a result of a high amount of energy projected directly into my body I would probably best off with literature around these topics."

Hadrian watched carefully as Helen dictated the words for her spell. He took a step closer to the rug and looked questioningly at it.

"So all I do in order to do this spell is step onto the rug and say the words? That's it?

Hadrian did his best to repeat what Helen had said. It was quite close. Remembering the exact words was not an issue for Hadrian, he remembered them clearly, and the pronunciation was better then one might have expected for his first try as well. Hadrian realized as the unfamiliar words left his mouth that he had been wise to take the time to learn other languages than Norwegian back on earth, as the experience helped him emulate phrases in languages he didn't know. Hadrian said the words one more time, this time trying even harder to make it as perfect as possible, to be absolutely sure he was saying it correctly. He did in fact have two slips of the tongue, and both registered immediately in his ears, trusting in her superior knowledge however he waited patiently for Helen to correct him instead of pointing out his mistakes himself.

Helen corrects you, and compliments you on your good memory.

You try again using the phrase that both Helen and you thought you'd need.

The rug rises in the air about one foot.

"Now...."  She gives you a set of one-word commands.  Over the next hour, you learn twenty words of Sumerian.  Words like 'stop', 'right', 'left', 'ground', 'faster', 'slower', 'bathroom' (for when you need to go directly...), 'red' (for rise to the red section, and hover).

The rug trembles lightly under your feet as you rise fifty feet in the air, and then come back down under your own control with the assistance of Enki.

She has asked the infodesk for linguistic magic books in the Green.  When you're finished practising, she takes you over to a small table, and shows you two green-bound books.

"Languages of the Nordic Diaspora: Basic Runic Symbolic Projection for Dummies"  Its a big, yellow book.

"Hie Arte of Ye Tongues of Manne"
Its ancient with splendid illustrations reminiscent of, although not as good, as the Book of Kells.

The librarian comes by with another green book.

"An Overview, with Statistics Included, on Methodologies Involved in Interworld Travel.  Rose University Doctoral Dissertation."  Its a sheaf of paper, and one look at the first sentence yields three single syllable words, and five words with more than six syllables, plus other polysyllabic jargon.

PT
Sumerian Language 1@1 aka 'complete novice'--1@5 is Typical Amateur.
Use Magic Device-Rug 1@2--The Use Magic Device-Specific is one of the easist of spells to learn.  Asking for a Blessing is about as difficult.  Throwing fire is considerably harder.

Once all the books had been placed on the table Hadrian humbly thanked the librarian before settling down with what he considered most important; the overview of Interworld Travel. After a few moments of browsing through the first page Hadrian realized that trying to decipher this tediously complicated jargon would take a while, and this even for someone used to reading complex vocational articles.

He put the stack of paper back on the table and reached for the "Languages of the Nordic Diaspora" and opened it up on the first page, reading quickly through it. He paused for a while and looked up at Helen with an empathic look on him.

"My, here I've gone and ignored you completely. This is not something that can be done swiftly. Now that I know these books are here I can come back later to work, no need to be ungentlemanly. Why don't we walk some more and finish our wonderful evening without further interruption?"

You do pick up the fact that ten different methods of interworld travel will be discussed in the paper.  The rest is eye-crossing jargon.

The first page of the Nordic Diaspora is an inked cut-silver mold map of the Earth with odd political lines.  It shows how the Vikings and later Nordics colonized pretty much the whole world reaching as far as Japan and the Pacific Coast of America although missing Hawaii with the various migrations described.  And then it describes the various languages that grew out of this Diaspora as Swedish and Laplander met Japanese and Persian respectively.

She smiles, and you definitely think you've won another brownie point.

"I think I need to go to bed.  I have to work tommorrow, and need I remind you that you are expected by his Lordship at dawn at his airship."

PT

A hint of regret crossed Hadrian's eyes as he absently scratched the side of his head with his left hand.

"Indeed, his lordship. I had almost forgotten about him."

Hadrian caught his cue and got to his feet, offering Helen his arm as he did.

"I don't know where you live... but let me at least accompany you as far as the Edge Inn. That is, if it is in the same direction."

Following Helen's response Hadrian adressed the librarian and explained that he had to depart for the night, but that he would be back to study the books tomorrow, and asked if the library could store the books for him untill then. With that out of the way Hadrian once again turned to his date and prepared to walk her home, or at least part of the way.

"The Edge Inn will be fine, Hadrian.  Are you coming to eat dinner again there tommorrow, well, tonight I mean as dawn approaches...?"

She takes your arm, and you walk her over the vast plaza which is practically empty.  The Edge Inn seems to have moved to the other side of the road.  It still has a few customers sitting at the reading table in the corner, but everyone else is asleep.

She kisses you on the cheek, and lets herself in while shutting the door behind her.

Now you need to find the Bridge of Glass at the edge of the City in a city where the roads move, and some pathways involve teleportation....

PT

As they were standing together in the chilling night air outside the front door to the Edge Inn, before Helen and Hadrian parted ways, Hadrian decided to be so bold as to ask his date for another service.

"Helen, I know this might sound like an unusual thing to ask, but would you happend to have some flour I could borrow? I have a feeling I might need it for helping the lord with his airship."

Hopefully after receiving a small bag of flour, Hadrian accepted the kiss with a bright smile, and once he had seen Helen inside he spun about extravagantly and started on his way. Except how to know which way was the right one?

Hadrian knew by now that the roads didn't stay in one place. This he had both seen for himself and heard from Helen. However, unless the entire layout of the city changed as well, Hadrian had a pretty good idea where the Glass Bridge was in relation to the library. If he could keep going in the same direction he might find it before long.

It was a very weak logic, but at the moment the best he could come up with until he found someone to ask for directions.

Hadrian started down the road, opting for a combination of natural sense of direction and whim to find his way. Once he had reached the end of the street he stopped and looked about him to get his bearings.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:22, Wed 10 Oct 2007.

You travel by sense of direction and whim.

...down a cobblestoned road....over a granite bridge above a chasm of unguessable depth....through a narrow tunnel brightly lit by phosphorescence....past a graveyard filled with stone statues that seem to whisper to each other....across a field of grass....

"Hold!"  A young male voice calls from the edge of the field. "Hold you saboteur!"  He looks to be about fifty feet away, and the edge you came from is thirty feet away...and the direction you want to go is about a hundred feet away.

He's running...more jogging...your way.

His right handis held upright in an odd way.  He's dressed in some orange and black striped tunic...

PT

As he was walking Hadrian theorized about the nature of the city. It changed, that much was certain, but did it change in any particular way. Had he been blessed with more time he could have studied the way the streets moved and looked for a pattern. A thought came to him, and for a while Hadrian amused himself with thinking that the streets revolved around the library in much the same way that planets revolve around a star. In fact that didn't seem completely impossibly considering that the centre of THIS universe was inside the library. Hadrian had made it about this far in his pondering when he came to the field of grass. When he heard the man yelling his natural reaction was to stop immediately.

"Saboteur? He must be mistaken, I haven't done anything wrong. And I certainly can't see any 'please don't step on the grass' signs. In any case it seems I've finaly found someone to ask for directions."

The odd appearance of the man and the way he was running towards him with his hand held upright put Hadrian on edge. Magic was a very real thing in this world, and Hadrian didn't want to be shot with a bolt of lightning or somesuch. So instead of standing like a statue waiting for the man to catch up with him he raised his right hand and began waving to the man. When the distance between them had been sufficiently reduced Hadrian even yelled his piece over to the man, hoping to disarm any awkward situations before the man even came close.

"GOOD SIR. I seem to have become lost! Might I trouble you for help in pointing me towards the Glass Bridge?"

He comes skidding to a halt about fifteen feet away, and his hand is suddenly bathed in an orange light that hisses and sparks.  It casts strange shadows about his lean face.

"Lost...a likely story, and what would someone like you be doing  with the Glass Bridge.  Don't you know its an almost certain path to the destruction of your body?  Nay, sir, I think my theory is more likely.  You are a saboteur of the Swordsmen, and I, Sorcerer First Grade Rimner have captured you.  Now, come along, we have a fine dungeon, well-stocked with rats and rusty iron chains...the classics, one does like to do things with the proper style...."

He pauses.

"In fact...yes, I do believe  this is the right time to say this."

He clears his throat.

"You can do this the hard way or the easy way."

PT

Hadrian suddenly straightened his back, increasing his height by a few inches, and captured the young mage with a superior-looking gaze, surrounding himself with an air of confidence and importance. Although his face was stern and his eyes unyielding, he had a visible smirk in the corner of his mouth.

"What do you think you are doing boy?" Hadrian asked sternly. "You can do this the hard way or the easy way"? You have been reading far too many books!, he continued in his best mimickry of the man.

"You are adressing Lord Hadrian Superbia, official emissary of the Royal Tellus Union of Dimensions. I am on an official assignment to meet with Lord Comte of Gothika, on his dirigible, which happends to be moored to this Glass Bridge. Not that it is any of your business to begin with. Its functions other than as berth for his ship are of little importance to me."

Hadrian took a step backward, still maintaining his best nobleman pose, and visibly sized the sorcerer in front of him up and down, ending his analysis of him with a snicker.

"You are a mage", he suddenly said matter-of-factly. "Young as well. A word of advice, if you are seeking to prove yourself to your Order you should be a little more foresighted before ignorantly antagonizing every passer-by you see. In fact I am sure your betters will be more impressed with you when you tell them you escorted a royal emissary, protected him from these Swordsmen you mention no less, safely to his destination, instead of the shame you will face when you are held accountable for almost starting a cross-dimensional war with your rudeness."

Hadrian walked a bit closer, still seemingly confident and unafraid, and snapped his fingers loudly.

"In fact I do believe you owe me a small favour for stopping me on my way like this. So what say you? Which way to this fabled Glass Bridge? If you accompany me the entire way I'll even ignore this incident and put in a good word for you with the Tellus Union when we start trading through this dimension."

On the outside Hadrian played the part of a royal emissary fairly well, he could thank his linguistic abilities for that, but on the inside the rookie verser prayed that this mage, who seemed as much a novice as he was, would fall for his bluff and not press on any further.

He gapes at you, and you see the beginnings of fear on his face.  Then, you can see he is getting angry because he's been embarrassed, but he bows low, and grinds out a reply.

"Of course, Ambassador.  Its just that this playing field is the battle site for the Swords and the Sorcerers, and we guard it at night to make sure the foul Swordsmen do not lay traps on it.  No one is supposed to be here, but us."  He finishes pompously.

"However, in view of your special circumstances, I can offer you some aid, and..."  He grits his teeth in pain. "Free passage over the battlefield, and guidance."

He points out in the distance.

"See that bright spot on the cloud.  See the angle it hits the cloud at?  Draw a line in your mind back to the ground along the light.  Thats the Glass Bridge.  Now aim at it, and then turn twenty degrees to your left.  Keep trying to go twenty degrees to your left of the Glass Bridge, eventually you'll find it. You can't miss it."

PT
OOC: A boost in your persuasiveness.  Even with a very bad dice roll, you still got your way.

Hadrian follows the young mages finger to the light in the sky. As he had been explained to he painstakingly measured up a line from the point where the light hit the sky and down to the ground in his mind.

".... and now 20 degrees to my left of the Glass Bridge..."

Hadrian turned to the man, who luckily had fallen for his last-second bluff, and nodded in thanks, though he still retained that air of authority. He set off in the direction he had been explained to go, roughly twenty degress to his left of where the light in the sky connected with the ground. The Glass Bridge. Despite the sudden surge of confidence he felt for having evaded a potentially awkward situation he couldn't keep from repeating a pessimistic sentence in his head as he walked swiftly but casually to the outskirts of the battlefield in the direction of the bridge.

"Like he said... I can't miss it."

((I have to admit I was afraid that my bluff wouldn't work. It seems however that lady luck favors the bold.))
This message was last edited by the player at 20:14, Wed 17 Oct 2007.

You follow the light.  It takes you past gargoyles perched on stone fences.  The creature seems to move when you'e not looking at it.  Down dark alleys which you somehow sense are far, far wider than they should be, and if you stumble off course who knows where or when you might end up?  Past a collection of beautiful young women in glowing white dresses singing a lament of unearthly beauty.  Up one road, and then down it again, and then up it again.  Past an arch where obvious muggers and street scum lean and look at you with the casual attention of a full shark.  But in the mouth of the arch is darkness that the torchlight does not penetrate, and you're sure there is teeth in that darkness, but teeth not interested in something as mundane as blood and bone to chew on.  And then you're walking along the outer edge of the City with the Fogs to your left.

They glisten, and always seem to be about to show you something, but never do.

The Bridge rises out of the Fogs.  It looks like the first half of the Brooklyn Bridge, but made of gleaming glass that reflects what little light reaches it into the sky, and all about it.  The Bridge reaches into the Fog like a pier going into a lake, and you can feel it gently calling to you to take your dreams, and your best thoughts, and your bravery in hand...and make the Dream into Physicality.

Above the first pylon, you see an impossible dirigible floating, tied by an anchor rope.  Its impossible because it obviously has a foot thick of iron armor on the outside.  It should crash to the ground with the dozen gun turrets on the exterior making a great clanking noise.

PT

Hadrian casually continued along the city edge, gazing dreamily off into the shifting fog, while casting the odd glance over to the bridge and the attached airship. It did indeed cross his mind how curious it was that a ship of that size and mass could float so easily in the air, when the laws of physics would have it come crashing down to earth. Having seen more unexplainable things in a day here than he had seen in his entire life back on earth, he decided to not question what he was seeing. Instead Hadrian made up his mind to try and learn as much as he could about the airship and its designs once he was inside it.

Not long after Hadrian found himself standing in front of the large glass bridge, looking all about him for any apparent means to reach the ship, wondering how he would go about getting on board the flying vessel.

You walk out onto the Bridge after spotting a ladder leading up the side of the first tower.  As you get to it, you see a young man with burning eyes, and quivering hands.

He gives you a quick grin.

"I'm thinking this is the day.  I'm going to create...."  His eyes hold a vision of beauty, but he pauses. "Maybe.  Besides, I need to keep the energy inside until I do it."

The ladder is slippery since its rungs are made of glass.  You climb a hundred feet.  Occasionally a stray wisp of fog brushes your face, and you see yourself Elsewhen for a second...

Hadrian at a baseball game in New York....delivering a doctoral recitation in a darkened room to frowning people in your native Russian....ducking laser fire as the alien landers strafe your position just outside Oslo....

You get to the top, and you stand on the top, and that moment when you can look from a mountain peak and see the world....well, its like that, it seems you're much, much farther up than you had climbed....but what you're seeing is the flickers of potential worlds breaching in the fog like whales in a sea.

There is a rope ladder tied off next to the anchor rope.  Its flexing and spinning in the breeze once every two to five seconds.  Some of the flexes have a swing of over thirty degrees.  The dirigible is fifty feet above you.

PT

While up there Hadrian took the opportunity to turn back towards the city and take it in from his remarkable vantage. He  looked to see if he could determine if the city´s movement happens visibly, and if so were there any patterns to it, and if there were any prominent landmarks and signs that he could use to find his way back to the library once he was done with his engagement with Lord Comte.

Once he was content with his scouting he turned to once again face the dangerous-looking ladder.

"The lord and lady must either be tremendously foolhardy or have some other form of travel that I lack. In any case there seems to be only one way on that boat for me, no matter how little I like it."

Hadrian stepped over to the ladder and grabbed it with both hands. For a moment he considered stepped back and abandon this whole thing. After all, he didn´t have to help these people. In the end though his sheer curiosity on how this diribible worked, and what kind of world these nobles came from, as well as what he could learn from questioning them, became too much to ignore. With his heart skipping a beat he stepped off onto the rope ladder and began his risky climb.

You climb woefully the first five feet, and then the ladder spins twice counterclockwise in a laughing gust of wind, and spins back to slam to a halt at its maximum range of arc.

You're hands are nearly torn loose from the ladder.  Your feet are flung horizontal, and your fingertips are hooked on to the ladder rung.

Directly below you can see the roadway of the Glass Bridge, and your feet point toward the Tower you just left.

PT

From Hadrian's point of view time seemed to slow down. For what appeared to him as an age, was merely a few moments of real time. He berated himself for his short mindedness and idiocy. How could he possibly have considered going out on that ladder when he could obviously see it was unsafe. The answer rang out painfully loud in his mind. He had been far too curious about the design of the airship to even consider his own safety. He now saw how mistaken he had been in being so blind.

Another small gust brought him back to the grim reality of his situation. He was hanging by his fingertips far above ground, with little or no hope of escape. Sheer desperation moved his hands to try and get a better hold. Should the opening arise, Hadrian wanted nothing more than to get back to the tower and have solid ground under his feet. The honourable Lord and Lady could be damned for the time being.

As he began inching his way towards safety Hadrian realized something. He was yelling. That fact hadn't really registered until now, and once he was aware of it the shrill sound suddenly seemed to reach his ears.

"SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!"

You start inching backwards, and no one seems to pay any attention to you...a finger slips....with a gasp of horror the rest goes, and you are flung like a small stone by the vast hand of the wind into the tower siding.

Things go crunch.

You hit with such velocity that you bounce off.

You're heading straight down to the Glass Bridge.

Smash.

For an immeasurable moment you fuse with the Bridge.

You see it standing shimmering Potentiality, a Sword of Reason that will force those who impale themselves on it to spill out their hopes and dreams and make them Material.  Beyond it a thousand thousand Potentialities flicker and glow.

And in the midst of them is a Tower, and the Tower stands on the foundation of a spell cast by Thirteen Arch-magi thousands of years ago to save the Library of Alexandria from barbarians by animating the Collossus of Rhodes to carry the Libary to Elsewhen.

You're starting to lose grasp.

You look up and see the giant candle held in the grasp of a worldsized figure of a man who is holding it over the shoulder of a beautiful lady reading a book.  She looks up at you.

*Come again, Worldwalker. Verser. Immortal. You are welcome in our domains.*

And then things shatter in a million pieces.

PT

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Next adventure will be 'Hadrian and XXXXX'.