Radwa was unceremoniously awakened as they had been the past several mornings: by an unwelcome splattering sound followed by a foul stench wafting in through the holes in rusted walls of their ramshackle shelter.  In the pen next to the workshop they'd been staying in, the old aneen had taken it's morning constitutional right against the wall.  Again.

Unable to sleep through the odor (not from lack of trying), Radwa decided that it was time to rise and get moving.  There were preparations to make.  These people would never have hope if their last chance scouting party was seen leaving with that toothless, tempermental neighbor of of Radwa's, but right now, that was all the citizens of Canthus could spare.

The aneen had been recovered, wandering in the plains west and south of the aldea.  It had been part of a scouting party that left nearly a month ago.  The still-healing wounds on the animal indicated that it had been attacked by denizens of the Caecilian Jungle.  Those raids had been ranging farther north by the year, but Wilmark Aldrege, Regent of Canthus, had expressed a hope that those vicious abhumans and their lizard-like mounts might stay away from the higher foothills of the Black Riage.  His optimism proved unwarranted.
This message was last updated by the GM at 01:08, Wed 12 June 2019.

"Must you?" Radwa complained as the smell assailed their nostrils - as it had every morning they'd been staying there. They got up and dressed, packed their sleeping things away, and returned their attention to their work, munching on a breakfast ration.

They had their cache of io laid out neatly, what they'd thought was enough to build a transport cart. In truth, most of what they needed was here - they still needed some more parts and more metal plating than they thought. Their attention turned to the synth shielding - the bits that were supposed to be both the windows and the photovoltaic charger had been damaged by sandblasting and were far too opaque to be of use in either of the applications they needed it for.

"At least the more complex parts are all right," Radwa said to themselves, looking at the mimetic gel and quantium they had, before looking back at the synth shielding. "Maybe I can try buffing it out - it doesn't look too caked on and I should be able to salvage some of it, right?"

They look over at the aneen and sighed. "I'd better take this outside," they said, before opening up the stable doors and pulling some of the synth shielding out. They got out their buffing cleaners from their tool box and started to take out a few of the synth shielding pieces into the sunlight to try and clean them off - both to help clean them and to have something resembling air flow for both theirs and the aneen's sakes.

The scratches didn't seem quite as bad once Radwa washed the dust and grit off, but they would still need some polishing to useful as windows.  There was a dented tin of polishing compound in the workshop area, left over from some craftsman or other, some project completed or forgotten years ago.  It stank, but it was effective.  Rags could be found in abundance.  The problem was, apart from needing to spend more time soaking in foul odors, there was barely enough polish for half of one panel.  Radwa would need to find a way to obtain more.

Radwa took a small vial of the polish as a sample, packed away the rest of the cache of materials and iotum, and pulled the hood of their cloak up. "Well, this isn't going to cut it - maybe somebody has some more I can use. Hopefully they do - it'll be easier to buff it all out rather than find more, I think."

They sighed and turned towards the rest of Canthus, setting off to the market area in the hope of finding the polishing compound they needed, their hircine legs glinting briefly under their skirt as they left the stable.

The community has still not risen to full life, but some people are about.  Aromas of cook-fire smoke and sizzling meat waft through the air, counter-pointed with the occasional assault of people disposing of their nightsoil in cylindrical receptacles stationed about the aldea.

A rare cloudy day contains the possibility of rain.  Men, women, and even a few Lattimor are deploying collection barrels by the roofs of the buildings, even the unoccupied ones.  Radwa has been in the area long enough to know that most of the community's water is drawn from a spring to the south, but no one misses a chance to get easy, clean water.

In the market square the food vendors are already hawking their wares.  Skewers of roasted insects are removed from a metallic heating box before being hung from a display wire.  One woman gracefully skins and scores a magillin fruit before rolling it in a mix of spices, creating the edible image of a flower with orange-tipped blue petals.

Radwa looked around the aldea, enjoying the more pleasant smells of the early morning while quietly reminding themselves that time existed and most places didn't have shops open all twenty-eight hours of the day. "Maybe I should've built the sustenance synthesiser for them instead..." they said to themselves as they passed along the food stalls.

They actually stop to watch the woman prepare the magillin fruit, admiring the deftness and skill in her work, idly turning a piece of quantium in their hand. After watching the woman continue to turn out more art, Radwa approaches.

"Hello. Sorry to... to both you but, uh, could I have one of your flowers please?" they ask, their voice softened and quieter than it was compared to talking to themselves but still audible.

The woman, perhaps in her 50s and dressed neatly if cheaply, looks up as she rolls another carved fruit.  The smell of the spices is a bit stronger, hot and spicy to counter the earthiness of the magillin.  "You're from awver the Scouts Camp, I think.  Didn't graw up round here, judging by that accent."  She sets the finished "flower" on the rack and wipes off the knife blade on her apron.  "You heading past the Veil?  A quiet one like you?"

Radwa did their best to hide their discomfort at the way the conversation had changed, but they probably weren't doing a good job of it. "No - I mean yes, I'm going on the expedition but... no, I'm from Navarene to... to start with. I mean, even quiet people can explore, can't they?" they said, their voice getting faster as the sentences ran on, before they made themselves stop and catch their breath, an awkward expression on their face, the hand that held the quantium gripping it far too tightly.

The woman stabs one of the magillin flowers and pokes it toward Radwa.  "Gaw on, then.  Take it.  You'll need your strength."  Once the morsel, bigger than Radwa's fist, is taken, the older woman smiles.  "We appreciate you lot helping.  You need something for the trip?  Magillins wawn't keep, though.  Awnly a couple days after you pick 'em."

Radwa accepts the magillin with a surprised expression. "Thank you. You... don't want any shins for it?" they asked, happy to accept but mildly confused. They put the quantium in a pocket so they can properly grip the magillin fruit-flower, letting the spice mix waft through their nose.

"I want a safe place to live.  A magillin is a small price to pay for that."  She smiles warmly and picks up another fruit from her crate, still in its dark, fuzzy skin.  "I'm sure you have better things to do than chat in the marketplace.  Run on with you.  A new home wawn't just fall out of the sky for us."  With quick, practiced movements, she begins to peel the fruit and carve the petals of another "flower".

Radwa takes a few seconds to absorb the fact that they were getting the food for free before thanking the woman again and going on their way. They paused for a moment to bite into and savour the fruit, enjoying the scent of the spices and the taste and texture.

They found an out-of-the-way spot to sit and watch everyone go about the business of the day, taking bites from their fruit as they watched, occasionally brushing their hand over the pocket where they'd put the quantium they'd been playing with earlier.

Radwa is able to find a shady spot between two buildings and under a large tree, keeping out of the summer sun for a bit.  As they slowly consume the magillin, they discover half a dozen seeds within, squarish marble-sized lumps of deep scarlet flecked with black.  Radwa nearly breaks their teeth on the first one they encounter, and are careful to flick out the remaining ones as they're exposed.

The bustle in the town slowly picks up as the sun rises.  Overall, Radwa sees abnormally high numbers of children and older folk going about their daily business or just kicking a bundle a sakra stems around.  A pair of peddlers, their carts pulled by avian-looking quadrupeds, are flanked by a single guard who looks only slightly less weather-beaten than the merchants.

Radwa hears bits of news and gossip from various passersby, too.

"... haven't been any attacks for a week now.  We're due.  I hope they got that eastern turret repaired or I'll be ..."

                  "... is the first mira-mira meat he's brought in for a month.  I'm hoping I can get a cut of the haunches for that stew the kids like."

"I'm not sure this was worth the trip, Abbal.  Do you really think these people are going to buy those Fasten textiles?  Still, we might be able to get some goods at a cheap price if ..."

The sweat cools on Hoa Sen's forehead as she finishes her katas and tugs her tunic back into place. Such a simple gesture: replacing the disarrayed. There's no such simple solution for Canthus or for Hoa Sen herself. Aeon Priest Ulhe and his small semblage should have been here weeks ago; their route was, by last reports, no more dangerous than her own had been. Of course, last reports had also suggested the aldea was not in any immediate danger.

That, Hoa Sen knows, is wrong. She feels it in her bones. She has done what she can to help; while she could never master the Order's numenera, she has learned much about the way of organizing goods and people. The Regent Wilmark Aldrege has appreciated that help.  It is not going to be enough. Even Radwa, the wright with the numenera legs, can not build a solution. How much difference the resources of the Papacy could provide! More skilled hands to work the salvage into functional devices, more knowledge to restore the burned fields and heal the wounded.

Hoa Sen is all the resources the Order of Truth has managed; she knows that anything else is hypothetical and increasingly unlikely to arrive quickly enough to make a difference.

For a time, the kasunda loses herself in the waxing bustle of Canthus in the morning. There are people to cheer, vendors to check in on, children to entertain with a joke or flourish of hand or foot. Hoa Sen's ears collect the gossip. Little of it is new, little happy...
This message was last edited by the player at 01:22, Wed 12 June 2019.

Radwa finished the fruit - skin and all - and was just cleaning their hands when they saw Hoa Sen passing through the Canthus marketplace, speaking effortlessly with others around her and making conversation look as easy as breathing.

"I wish I could do that."

They stretched their legs, took out the sample vial of polish, and waved at Hoa Sen, hoping to catch her attention.

Hoa Sen spots Radwa when the wright waves and excuses herself from discussing the ongoing antics of errant children. As soon as she's away from the conversation, her smile slips. A little. Her body language tightens up, too, becomes the more habitual movement of somebody who has walked long distances and in strange places.

When she reaches Radwa, she touches a finger to her throat and bows shallowly. A little more life comes into the smile. "Radwa. A pleasure to see you this morning. How progresses your work?"