A Town Called Clueless

The Town of Clueless was a small town in the center of the Kingdom of Chayne Sa, which was located in a westerly area of the great Continent of Magnificence. Magnificence, it was normally called, perhaps Magsy or such for short. Chayne Sa was just one of maybe thirty kingdoms/countries/areas of land with some form of vaguely organized government that surrounded the great Chaos Lands, a very large area smack dab in the middle of Magnificence, that was not unpopulated, just not under any form of organized government. Long ago a pact had been reached that anyone who wanted an orderly life with benefits and all that could hang out in a kingdom/country/area of land with some form of vaguely organized government, and anyone who leaned towards the more carefree way of living could go camp out in the Chaos lands. It was a neat system, and people of Magnificence were excellent at minding their own business. Well, their own country/carefree group/kingdom/area of land with some from of vaguely organized government's business. Their direct neighbor's business was still fair game, as far as they were concerned.

The Kingdom of Chayne Sa was known especially for its famous University of Vague Subjects (where people went if they wanted to write vague books about vague concepts and talk in vague ways that was only understood as an art form of talking vaguely, and not really as a form of functional communication). Still, some of the people who got out of the UVS were extremely clever. Lots of people who had already gone through some other form of schooling went there, just to refine some of their vocabulary. Chayne Sa was also known for it's wine, soap, and power tools, which all ran on a magic substance (common throughout Magnificence), which was some sort of sparkly orange dusty sandy dirt that turned into liquid if you froze it, and was useful in all manner of strange ways. The most useful were probably the horseless wagons, but as a rule, the more complex the thing you wanted to use the magic on, the more you had to use (and the more diagrams you had to write to channel the power in the right way), and was therefore more expensive, and etc. This magic substance was called 'SO', which stood for Sparkly Orange, which was how you recognized it in the wild.

The Town of Clueless.
Ah
Truly a place of wonder

With a population of 800 or so, it consisted of a small little town central area, with shops, a marketplace, some outlying houses, and some farmland. It was thirty miles from the nearest main road, and it was such that they had arranged for a special messenger to travel out there once a month so they could keep in touch with the main stream of things. They did not want to live in ignorance, and were mindful of the news they were able to receive. They considered themselves quite lucky to live where they did, and hence, did not really want to move. No one wanted to move closer to them, either, because there was twenty miles of swampland between them and the nearest main road. But they stayed there, for they lived very near a waterfall of special importance. In the bed of the river, and in the water of the fall, was a strange substance of GREEN sparkly dirt sandy dust, which they were positive would be important one of these days.

It should be mentioned that they all were under the impression that the word 'Clueless' came from the words 'Cluere' and 'Elesse', which means 'Clever' and 'Pigeon' respectively in some other language that no one could ever remember the name of.

Despite their dependence on this strange substance that as of yet had shown no remarkable signs of anything interesting, for the past twohundred or so years, they were a very happy little town, with an excellent school, three wineries, and a taste for good music and good gossip.

It was here that this story starts. For better or worse, something interesting was going to happen. Eventually. Surely, it had to. They hadn't staked so much on this one area for nothing-had they?

Not for nothing. Just on the wrong thing.

Cardamon (Carrie, Cardy, Car, Cardamonmonmona) Eglantine Ko'erey stood on the neatly organized, but badly painted porch of her very small house, and frowned at the sky in a perturbed manner. The sky was taking much too long to decide whether or not it wanted to rain, in her opinion.
"It's not going to do anything helpful if you stare at it like that." her brother pointed out, from the porch swing, "Not if you can't decide whether you want it to rain or not either."
"It would be nice if it rained." Cardamon said, "For the flowers. But then, they need sun too. This overcast day isn't doing them any good."
"Can't fault that logic." Theo Ko'erey said, shrugging, "Suit yourself with the sky-gazing."
"Well, it's not like I've got much else to do!" Cardamon snapped, for this was a sore point as of this morning, "I didn't ask to blow up half the magic shop this morning, and get fired from my morning job. It wasn't my fault! But apparently someone had to get blamed, and that's me, whose job consists of doing only what people tell me to because they're too lazy to do it themselves."
"You're too competent for them." Theo said, nodding, "Threatening. They needed to get rid of you. Besides, you've still got the cafe in the evenings."
"Yay." Cardamon said, "Beverages and pastries. And wine. I guess that's good."
"See? Perfect." Theo said, "You don't need two jobs anyway."
Cardamon glared a little, "I want to go to school someday. That involves money. More than what I can earn here, so I need to earn some to get out of here, to where I can get a higher-paying job, and eventually, I manage to stumble into a school before I'm fifty. Or that's the dream, anyway."
"Yes. I know. And I get to stay here and not do anything with my life because I'm lazy." Theo said, nodding, "I am familiar with this discussion."
"You know I never mean that." Cardamon said, "I just want you to aspire to something, that's all. You've got to dream about somewhere where the grass is greener, or you'll never try anything new."
"Well, that's one way to look at it." said Theo, "Your dreams have led you to finding a decently flashy way to blow things up. I call that an accomplishment."
"Ah, well, of course." Cardamon said, "It was rather fantastic, before I realized that it had caused problematic destruction."
Theo raised an eyebrow at her, "But you didn't do it on purpose?"
"No. A shelf just imploded and I was the only person in the shop at the time. I wouldn't blow such a place up on purpose."
"What about if you had a good reason?"
"Well, then sure, I'd consider." Cardamon said, gravely.
Theo laughed, and then she laughed, and then she sat down on the porch swing by him, smoothing her neat blue skirt and looking down the road, where a few other small cottage-like dwellings were, with large yards. Not very far away, she could see the closer together roofs of the buildings that made up the most downtown like area that Clueless had.
There was smoke rising from one of the buildings in that area.
"Theo," Cardamon said, "I do believe that the magic shop isn't the only place that's had some combustion problems today."

So, like any curious, inquisitive, trouble-seeking, nosy people, they hurried off in the general direction of the fire.

A tall grassy hill stood not far off the outskirts of the curious village of Clueless. And tall was indeed the most practical adjective to use in describing the aforementioned hill. The hill rose up about three stories high, and spiraling around it were simple wooden stairs culminating at the entrance to a cosy little hut at the peak, a modest single-room home, circular and about five metres in diameter. In this cosy little cottage lived a man whose youthful face and demeanor belied the experience held in his eyes, if anyone bothered to look deep enough.

However, it was quite unlikely that any onlookers would care to take note of his eyes at this particular moment, as they would have been far too distracted by the cacophony of the situation. The cacophony of the situation being quite literal, as the man, dressed in brilliant white robes embroidered around the collar and cuffs with baby blue, was currently shouting a string of rude words at a terrified wailing tortoise.
After the string of rude words, the length of which was quite admirable if not off-putting, the man ended with, “My toenails had only just regrown you chelonian chimney sweep! Now look what you’ve done! See my feet? No? That’s because they’re all toenail!”

“Maaaaa?” the tortoise whimpered, craning its head over the edge of the table on which it sat to look down at the chaos it had wrought by accidentally knocking over the vial of toenail regrowth formula. The floor, and the man’s feet (or talons as they might be called in their current state), were splattered with a purple liquid. Unremarkably, the robes were still a brilliant white, and not marred by a single purple blotch. The fact was unremarkable, as the tortoise was well aware of the enchantment the magician (or wizard, or sorcerer, or arcane practitioner, or whatever the man was) had placed on his clothes to ensure they maintained their lustrous sheen in nearly any turn of events.

Suddenly, the man grinned and seemed to entirely forget why he had been harassing his tortoise. He whipped out his white-wood wand and gave it a flamboyant twirl and the purplish mess and shards of glass on the floor were replaced by flower petals, which seemed to be lifted by a light breeze and carried out the window.
“Hmm, I seem to be running a bit low, don’t I?” He reached for a satchel on the table, and opening a small hatch in his wand, carefully poured a sparkly orange substance into it. He closed the satchel and stuck it in his robes.

“Now that that’s settled, I believe we have a bit of business in town, eh Tortimer? My new dowsing rod will have arrived at the magic shop today. It shall be much easier to find buried sources of So, no?” And the man proceeded to force his oddly shaped feet into his boots, pluck the tortoise from the tabletop and stuff it in the folds of his robes, walk out the door, and saunter down the spiral staircase around the hill. Whistling a peppy tune, he started down the path towards town.

It was the small cafe that Cardamon worked at that had the implosion problem this time. She cursed her bad luck several times over-no one would be working at that cafe for a good while-and stood, arms crossed against her green blouse, and considering bloody murder at the general world. Theo was walking around, talking to people, and being generally friendly and interested in things. He had friends. She didn't. She had plans. She'd get friends eventually, she sort of assumed in some vague way.

The crowd was small, but certainly pretty much everyone in town at the current moment. And others from outside, Cardamon noted with a bit of an eyebrow-raise and interested glare. That wasn't anybody she knew-but she knew who it was. Oh, the stories some of the other people who worked at the magic shop had told. She'd never had the...luck to meet this curious and eccentric (and VERY strange) patron of the magic shop (and of a few other places in town), and she'd never been able to decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Theo caught her eye, and nodded towards the white-clad stranger, as if to say "That's not something you see every day." She shrugged at him, and looked at the not very fiery now cafe with determined interest. She had lost two jobs in one day, neither was her fault, there was too much fire around, and she was determined to be very angry and disapproving of everything.

“Oh dear,” the man said, working his way through the crowd, “Somebody seems to have had quite the tousle with a pyromancy spell it would seem.” He glanced around at the crowd and piped up, “Why is everyone just standing around and gaping. Gaping at flames isn’t particularly effective I’m afraid. Haven’t you any of you lot ever seen a building on fire before? A bit of water might do the trick though. Wands up folks.”

A few people in the crowd gave him confused looks.

“Come on now, I know at least a few of you must have wands on you. Can’t you follow simple instructions? The sky is clearly feeling a bit indecisive. Let’s give it a gentle nudge shall we?” He waved his hands up and a few among the crowd drew their wands reluctantly. One elderly man muttered something to his walking stick, which must have been a magical staff.

“Good, good, on the count of three. One… two… four…” he shot a sly glance at the elderly man, whose staff had started to glow before abruptly stopping. “Three!”

Several bolts of light shot up at the sky from amongst the crowd and the clouds rumbled groggily before starting to rain down.

“Many thanks for your cooperation folks,” the man shouted to the crowd, “It isn’t every day you get to spellweave with the magnificent Artur Lore. The honour is all yours, I’m sure!” He bowed low in four directions, to the entire crowd around him (for he had made his way to the very centre of the crowd, as he tended to do). The flaming café had become a smouldering café, which was somewhat of an improvement.

Molly Braeden had been strolling along the streets of Clueless, reading papers as she walked, mumbling to herself. In her other hand she held a small packet which contained enough SO for her to experiment with. She didn't fancy herself a magician- or sorcerer-in-training, but since she had no other way to spend her days, she was interested in trying different ways to use the SO. She would not have admitted it to anyone, but she was more interested in the sparkling green dirt in the waterfall. She wanted to find out its uses and importance. Wanted to be the first to discover it. For she was a no one in this village; hardly anyone knew her (though it could be argued that was due to the fact of her being an almost recluse in her home and thus no one could get to know her), and she wanted that to change. However, since she had her reservations about trying something like that on her own, she contented herself with perfecting her skills on the SO before trying anything else. As she neared the centre of the village, she looked up to see a fire in the cafe. Hurriedly walking over, she stopped in the shadows of a shop near the burning cafe. She hesitated, then, just as she was about to step closer to be of assistance, a man in white appeared. She watched fascinated as he ordered them to pull out their wands and make the rain fall. He is quite egotistical, she mused, smiling, but he seems to be an experienced magician. Or thinks he is. Maybe he can help me.

A few miles away from the smouldering café and the town of Clueless, a horseless wagon was making its way slowly across the last stretch of swampland before the town, much to the displeasure of its rider.

"Agh! It'll take us forever at this rate!" A young man complained to a mostly empty carriage. His cat, Quill, had been the only one to accompany him on the long voyage from the University of Vague Subjects to the town of Clueless. The young man's name was Xeo Von Zweig, and he was, in fact, returning to his hometown, which was, in fact, Clueless, after four long years of studying at the UVS. He had been fortunate enough to be born into one of the richest families in Clueless, and although his parents were long dead after an incident involving rogue SO-powered power tools, he felt obligated to return to the town of his birth, if even for a short amount of time.

Beside Xeo, Quill stretched as he awoke from yet another one of his cat-naps, and opened his bright green eyes. Xeo eyed the creature with a feeling of distaste. It had been given to him at the University for exemplary work in the subject of vague magical studies, for it was said that the cat was born of the same magic of the SO, although Xeo had yet to see the feline do anything but sleep, eat, and scratch itself.

"Mrrow?" Quill purred with a tone that Xeo had come to associate with a needing for food.

"No. We have no more food left for the journey. We'll simply have to wait for another hour or so until we reach Clueless. Then you may gorge yourself with as much food as you want."

And so they did. As the wagon came over the last great hill marking the end of the swampland, Xeo could see the town of Clueless stretched out below him.

"Ah. Home, sweet- ack!" As Xeo spoke, a wind rose up from the town below, bringing with it a taste of smoke and magic, which is not a taste one would like to keep in their mouth. He drew up his black cloak to his mouth, trying to filter out the smoke from the air he breathed.

"What in the SO-?!? Come, Quill!" Xeo leaped out of the wagon, which wasn't as dangerous as it sounded, given that a turtle could travel faster, and raced down toward the center of the town, the orange cat close on his heels. Xeo wasn't particularly worried about the wagon; it had its course set for his family's manor, where he would meet it later.

As Xeo neared the now smouldering café, he saw a man, seemingly no older than himself, donned in robes of white and blue, bowing to the crowd that had formed. He held a wand in his hand, as many others did, and Xeo conjectured that he had been the one to put out the smoke and flames. Xeo stopped at the edge of the crowd, wondering what could have caused the fire in the first place.

Opal Jade Saphire, a tall young woman with very short dark hair, stood in the crowd forming around what had been a fire. Until this mysterious man named Artur had gotten there. Opal had been studying all day, so that she could get into the University, and had been hoping to go sit at the cafe and relax, but as it was now smoldering, she doubted that that would be happening. She hated it when something happened that disrupted her plans. She didn't really care much for magic either. She understood how the SO worked, but all other types of magic confused her to no end.

She moved to the back of the crowd, as there were less people there. She was trying to think of another cafe to go to, and the crowd was not helping. She felt like complaining about it to someone, but everyone else was preoccupied with gawking at Artur, so she just crossed her arms and glared at the smoldering cafe. "I mean, what cafe just decides to spontaneously combust?" She thought to herself. "And who is this Artur guy?"

Duran Odis Cordor, or Doc as he is known in the black markets, is an unusual fellow. He must be the most gullible person alive, as well as the most lucky. Whether chasing down the mythical gopher roosters near What Valley or digging for ancient lost marbles in Decoila Barrens, he never finds what he intends to find. Probably because they're simply rumors backed up by no evidence. However, although he doesn't find what he wants, he does find other peculiar objects such as tutti rats and gem skulls earning him a handsome sum. Doc is the stupid, lucky rare items dealer of Chayne Sa.

Now, it is rather obvious why Doc is in Clueless, however clueless he may be. This four foot fellow, wearing a simple black cloak over his rather ridiculous green suspenders, blue pants, and orange shirt is on yet another quest for rare objects. He is querying, rather surreptitiously, the whereabouts of the rare SG, sparkly green. Unfortunately, the days haven't been so lucky for him so far.

As he peered through the window of the magic shop this morning, to see if the shop stocked any SG, he fell head over heels and landed on his rump. "Note to self: Do not attempt to stand on six oddly shaped boxes stacked on top of each other." He thought as he rubbed his behind. Unfortunately, his rare stick of dynamo, obtained while quarreling with an annoying pirate, fell out of his pocket, rolling to the teetering column of boxes. The top box fell, landing squarely on the stick, and instantly exploded in a plume of bright orange. It didn't help the box contained SO, further magnifying the explosion. Doc barely escaped alive.

While stumbling around town, due to his now newly obtained hearing problem and visual difficulties, Doc rested on the steps of a cafe. Dark, with no inhabitants; the perfect place to relax. A natural lock picker, he smoothly unlocked the door and slipped inside, locking the door behind him. No one around, except for a few tables, stools, and chairs, but those don't count as people. Stumbling to the counter, Doc hunted for a glass and the faucet for some water. Rather dark, he reached into his pocket for his bottle of Insta-Glow, spheres of light that, when reacted with oxygen, start to light up. Unfortunately, due to his impaired vision and bad sense of coordination, he grabbed the bottle of Insta-Boom, compressed flames that explode when the bottle opens. He pops the cork open and all hell breaks loose. Luckily, the heavens pitied Doc and released some rain to quench the flames. On the other hand, he is covered with rubble, unable to move.

"HELP!!!!" Doc yelled in his deep voice, a peculiar characteristic of this dwarf.

"HELP!!!!" A deep voice sounded through the rubble, "HELP!!!!"

Xeo sighed, "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Again?" For wherever Xeo's limited travels seemed to take him, he usually had to come to the rescue of someone or other under whatever circumstances were present at the time. It seemed to be no different here, as the residents of the square seemed to be acting, well, clueless.

"Out of my way," Xeo yelled to the crowd as he pushed himself through it. This was no time for niceties; some poor whelp's life was at stake! His father had always told him when he was younger, "Xeo, there will come a time when a lesser man is in peril. You, as the bigger man, must always step in to help. That is the way of our family." Yeah, some way that was.

As Xeo neared the smouldering rubble, he spied a small hand waving out of the pile of rubble. He ran over to the hand, which, ordinarily enough, was attached to a body. A rather small body, in fact. In any case, this rather small body was covered by a heap of rubble, which just had to be moved.

"Don't worry," Xeo grunted as he began to lift off the rubble, "I'll save you."

In some parts of the world, though Cardamon and Theodore did not know it, the family of Ko'erey was infamous for its indecisiveness. There had been instances of relatives and ancestors of theirs being desperately shoved out of meeting rooms, it being common knowledge that any Ko'erey involved in any sort of committee decision making was a sure bet that the meeting was going to be three times as long as it would be normally.

It would come as no surprise, then, that Theo was a very indecisive person, if a little more careful about it than Cardamon was, who was an outright walking contradiction most of the time. Currently, Theo could not decide whether to go over to the charismatic Artur Lore and comment on the number of women staring at him, or continue to stare at the not-so-fiery cafe any more. He glanced at Cardamon. She was doing enough staring at the not-so-fiery cafe for them both. So, an overly blunt comment on something probably only he found amusing?
No. That was probably a bad idea. He looked at his sister with a bit of worry. She was standing, getting very wet in all the rain, with arms tightly crossed, in her knee-length blue skirt, and short-sleeved green blouse, with her hair that could never decide between red and gold and brown and blonde, and her eyes that could never decide between brown or blue or green or grey, staring at the ashy and destroyed remnants of her last source of income.

He loved his sister. He really did. And her dreams were good things to aspire to, like a good school, and doing something worthwhile with her life, even if she could never decide what. But something was just so superbly pathetically determined about her standing there that he had to look away for fear of laughing.

Cardamon was having a difficult time, emotionally, at the present moment. Not only was she having to rethink her entire life, as it would not be likely that she would be getting another job anytime soon, she was also mourning the loss of the winecellar attached to this particular cafe. It really had been a fantastic selection down there. She had never been able to decide on a favorite, but that hadn't stopped her from thoroughly enjoying a glass of wine from the cellar at the end of the work day, compliments of the vineyard that sponsored the cafe.

She was also having a difficult time deciding what to look at. The cafe was in ruins, yes, but she'd been looking at it for a while now. She looked at the sky, where it was raining. Impressive. She respected the decision it had finally made to rain. She could never do something like that. Then again, the other point of interest was the flamboyant man who had compelled the sky to finally decide on a course of action. Then again, everyone else was staring at him. So she settled for looking in the general direction of the cafe. Maybe if she wished hard enough, everything would be okay.

It was then that a voice was heard from beneath the rubble, calling for help. Cardamon saw her brother and another person spring into action (albeit it had taken her brother a moment to make a decision about what to do). With renewed interest in the proceedings, Cardamon moved closer to the center of the crowd, where the destroyed cafe and the white-robed stranger stood.

Opal saw two people rush to help whoever was trapped under the rubble, so she didn't bother. Instead she wandered around the edge of the crowd closer to Artur. She was interested in who he was. It wasn't everyday that one saw a stranger work magic like that. She wondered if he would be able to explain magic to her in a way that made sense.

((And...here we go!))

Jarvis Boffan entered the hopelessly whatever-forsaken town of Clueless just minutes after a storm appeared out of nowhere and seemed to drench the entire town...and himself.

"No doubt the work of those elite magiciazards or whatever they call themselves nowadays..." he muttered to himself while protecting the parcels he was supposed to be delivering to the "fine" residents of Clueless he served. You see, Jarvis Boffan wasn't a hack and slash warrior adventurer looking for the magic McGuffins that were supposed to save the land or some squishy wizard who could never seem to just destroy the 9001 foot ice troll who fed on indecision with magic due to the "Laws of Magic," but he was equally important.

He was one of the elite citizens of Magnificence chosen to serve in the nation's prestigious mail and package delivery system. Everyday(except Waffledays) he braved the elements of Magnificence. Neither spiced toast precipitation, nor fifty foot dragons, or even the 224th coming of the Crystal Dragon Bunny shall stay these couriers. Clad in a dim grey tunic adorned with forest green around the collar and cuffs, brown pants, and rubber magical wooden gloves, they roamed the lands facing the gravest of odds and came out standing.

However, Jarvis' situation was quite...different. Instead of outsmarting dastardly highwaymen, he had to deal with the, again, "fine" citizens of Clueless. Unlike most sleepy towns where "nothing ever happens," which always seem to tempt fate, things actually happened here.

...Odd things.

Take, for example, the crowd he bumped into when he entered the town.

"Hey Zop," he said to his enchanted floating sock puppet, which was the only good thing he liked about magic, "What do you get when you have a smoldering pile of rubble, a crowd, and a bitter, underpaid mailman?"

"Wot?" 'Zop' said in a high pitched voice while Jarvis was covering his mouth for no apparent reason.

"To get to the other side! No? No? Okay."

He started pushing through the crowd, but with no avail. He decided to give up until he heard a tiny voice coming from the rubble. He had to disperse the crowd first, though.

He grabbed a stack of papers from his messenger's bag and threw them on the ground.

"OI! EXTRA COPIES OF THE BEARD EDITION OF CLOAKS AND DAGGERS MONTHLY!" he yelled leaping out of the way of the incoming crowd and straight into a wall.

Jarvis leaped up to his feet and got in front of the destroyed building. “Jarvis Boffan of Magsy's Mail Service! Who's in charge of this rescue operation?” he boldly asked with his familiar bobbing behind him.

Artur made the slightest double-take at the voice coming from beneath the charred remains of the building.

“Of course, of course! It was a burning café after all; there’d doubtless be someone inside. How silly of me. Tis nothing at all like a burning law firm, which would doubtless lead to much rejoice, and the not entirely unreasonable expectation of a parade the next day.” Artur reached into his robes and procured the disgruntled tortoise. “Don’t look at me like that Tortimer. Now you’re going to be a good Samaritan and help those diggers out, yes?”

And so Artur unceremoniously tossed the poor creature into the soot, upon which it landed with a faint thud and the annoyed utterance of a, “Ma...” and the creature was suddenly replaced with a deep green, shell-patterned shovel by the flourish of a wand. The shovel began assisting the others in removing the charred rubble, as Artur turned to face the young woman who had worked her way through the crowd towards him.

“Utility tortoise!” He chirped happily to her, “Never leave home without one.”

“OI! EXTRA COPIES OF THE BEARD EDITION OF CLOAKS AND DAGGERS MONTHLY!” Artur heard somebody shout, and the majority of the crowd took off.

“Ooh, wonderful!” Artur said, turning his attention to the postman who had wandered over, “I’ve already received my beard edition, fortunately. Not the most fitting title for this month’s issue I’m afraid. It was mostly moustaches.” He grinned, “Now as for the rescue operation, I suppose the young man with the cat might be in charge. He started digging first anyway. My tortoise is certainly more qualified for leadership positions though, so you may wish to talk to him.” He paused for a moment, pondering, “Of course, the dwarf (and I’m certain it’s a dwarf under there as no amount of soot and rain could ever hope to cover up that stench) is the one with the most at stake, one could argue the position that he would be most suitable to take charge of the mission. Hmm?”

Cardamon scoffed silently at the crowd. Why didn't they just subscribe to Cloaks and Daggers monthly, and get it delivered to their house if they liked it that badly.

Utility tortoise? How handy, she thought with impressed skepticism. And yes, the moustaches-yes. They really ought to have called it so, and been done with it. Not that she was complaining, some of the moustaches had been quite attractive. But she did shudder to think about what they would look like on anyone she knew.

For a moment, she had thought that the magician was talking to her, but she'd realized it was someone else. She was very good at standing, and observing, and so she continued to do just that, as Theo helped clear away rubble, having taken the addition of the tortoise shovel in stride.

But the man's logic was faulty.

"Ah, sir." she said, carefully, stepping just a little closer, "It may make some sense for the dwarf to be in charge of the operation, from his standpoint, as no one else knows the rubble like he probably does, but in light of the fact that he cannot move, perhaps it is not the best idea to put him in charge of getting himself out? It is just a suggestion, to your otherwise well-thought-out analysis. Then again, as he is the one who would get crushed if a piece of rubble shifted badly, perhaps he really is the best one to say what goes..." she mused off, in a grave manner.

Slowly but surely, the weight of rubble lightens on Doc's small body. The darkness of soot and burnt lumber slowly fades into vague figures above his body. These figures are of course the villagers and a mysteriously colored shovel. With a cough and a brush of soot off his clothes, Doc says "Why thank you for your help villagers! I was never under that much rubble till the time I was trapped in a cave searching for mucus of rare cave squids."

Cardamon raised her eyebrows at the dwarf, and Theo smiled, "So glad to help! You're all right under there? I didn't know anyone was in the cafe, it's a sort of evening operation around here."

Opal watched all the proceedings with an air of disinterestedness. She was actually quite interested, but it was all so weird that she didn't want to show it. She inched closer through the crowd until she could see everything that was happening very clearly. She rose her left eyebrow at the dwarf when she saw him. She had not seen that many dwarfs before, but she had never really thought them that interesting. This dwarf however, seemed interesting enough.

"Ah, the dwarf lives!" Artur said, walking over, "Tell me my stocky little friend, are you a surface dwarf, or do you happen to come from one of the magnificent underground Dwarven cities? I can hardly imagine a surface dwarf managing to get himself in as much trouble as you, eh? Is it very strange for you to be in the world of the tall? Chairs are too high, tables are just out of reach, and even simply going to the privy must be a lesson in humility for you. And there's no stone above your head! It must be terrifying to look up at that vast, open sky, knowing that if you don't hold on tightly enough with your feet you may end up falling up, and up into vaccuum, into that endless black void!" Artur grinned, scooping up the shovel and prodding it with his wand. "You are a very brave soul indeed." He punctuated each syllable with a waggle of the dazed tortoise in his hand.

"That's ridiculous." Cardamon said, "No one's going to fall off the ground. I'm pretty sure that's been proven, somehow, maybe even scientifically. And if anyone was, it wouldn't have anything to do with their height. Weight, maybe. Just maybe. Or at least, I would assume."

Xeo stood up straighter after the dwarf, he now knew it was such, had been completely uncovered from underneath the rubble. He wiped the grime and soot off on his black cloak. He hated to do so, but at least he had a dozen like it back at the manor. As he did so, the strange white-robed man from earlier came over and started to talk to the dwarf. Hardly registering that the dwarf himself had thanked him for his efforts, Xeo looked around for his blasted cat, and finally spotted him sleeping atop a pile of Cloaks and Daggers Monthly, providing as a right nuisance to the rest of the crowd who were all trying to get an issue.

Xeo started to slowly climbed down off the pile of rubble toward his dozing pet, paying no mind to the robed man, the dwarf, and the other two villagers who had joined him upon the smouldering mass.

Mandy was having a bad time of it in the shadows near the remains of the cafe. In the first place, she was annoyed that she couldn't see everything that was going on - though a sort of recluse, Mandy was naturally curious and often 'spied' on her neighbours and wanted to know everything that was happening in their lives. Rather difficult sometimes, when this spying happened through the five or six windows her small house has, but it still worked. Once she had planned on expanding her home and adding more windows, or making small slots in the walls to see through, but she decided that it might draw undesired attention to herself, which she didn't want. Actually, if you didn't know Mandy lived in her house, you'd think the place was abandoned. Some of her neighbours, in fact, weren't entirely sure of her existence. In times she wanted to leave her house, such as today, Mandy would put on dark clothes - which consisted of the dark shirt, pants, socks, shoes and cap she now wore - and leave through the back door, sneak through allies, and stay to the shadows as much as possible. If anyone saw her, they ignored her, and if they didn't she, always carrying the pages of notes for her work, would be too absorbed in her reading to notice.

Not seeing everything wasn't her biggest problem, however. Her biggest problem was deciding if she should leave the shadows, go into the open, walk up to Artur, and speak to him. Surely people would notice her then. And though she wanted that, it was too soon. She wanted that when she could rise to fame for discovering the uses of the SG. When she was a someone. Besides, he was talking to someone, or rather, someones. She couldn't very well interrupt. Perhaps it would be best if she waited until he left the crowd. But wouldn't that appear strange - a girl wearing dark clothes silently appearing before him, when he hadn't seen nor heard her just a moment before? She could imagine it, and it seemed to her that it would be a disaster. He wouldn't help her then, if he got so frightened that he died! (It should be noted here and now that Miss Mandy Braeden had a wild imagination if allowed to get away with her, as it did in this moment.)

After several more moments of brooding over her choices, Mandy decided that it would be best to talk to him here and now and not sneak up on him later. After all, if he died of surprise, he'd hardly be of any help or use to her, now would he? So, mustering up her courage, she boldly walked up to him ('walked' not being the right word as she practically ran over a couple of people in her haste to get to him before she lost her nerve) and said in her most confident voice, after tapping Artur meaningfully on the shoulder, "Hello. You're a magician, I assume. I need help to become famous." Her voice didn't come out as strongly or as confidently as she hoped, being sort of whisper-y and breathless (she hadn't walked so quickly in a while), but she hoped by looking as confident as she could by smiling a little and not averting her gaze, that she still came across as such and he would take her seriously enough to respond, and perhaps help. Or direct her to a source of helpfulness. She also hoped he wouldn't mind her interrupting his conversation.

“Of course miss, it’s utter nonsense!” Artur said quite seriously, “But it’s a Dwarven superstition, not my own. Although, there have been a smattering of reports throughout history of Dwarves venturing up to the surface and never returning. But I suppose they could have just as easily have been eaten by Grues, no?”

It was at this point that a darkly-dressed young lady tapped him on the shoulder and spoke. He did a pirouette to face her and grinned, “Well, isn’t that just the broadest plea for assistance I’ve ever been given! You’d best be more careful miss. If you’d said the words, ‘I wish I was famous’ to a djinni, you’d most certainly get your wish, but the manner in which you received that heartfelt desire might lead to a dire desire, heartfelt! A lot of famous folk are dead you see, and have statues made of them. I’m not certain you’d want to end up like that, eh? Dead I mean, not a statue. I suppose a djinni might turn you into some sort of metal golem though. Not many of those around, so you’d most certainly be famous. I don’t think djinnis are quite that creative however. In any case, when dealing with a djinni, it’s best to have your wish triple-checked by a lawyer, then spoken to the djinni slowly and clearly. So I suppose in a way, it’s quite fortunate that it was simply the café that burnt down, and not the law firm. And before you ask, this is indeed a warning born of my own experience. I had a mild hiccup whilst reciting my wish to a djinni once, and instead of the new pair of socks I’d asked for I received a third kidney. Of course, the djinni was hard of hearing to begin with, and it didn’t help his cause that he’d been stuck in a bottle of gin for three hundred seventy years... but I digress. The moral of the story is that you should always be specific in asking for something because it is the interpretation of the request, and not the intention, that matters. What if I was a stark raving lunatic, and I decided the best way to make you famous would be to kill you in some spectacular manner that nobody would ever forget? Of course, I’d never do such a thing, but you don’t know that, do you? I would turn you into a metal golem if you’d like, but you’d need to supply me the magic anvil.”

Theo watched the exchange between the darkly-clad girl and 'Artur Lore' with a widening grin. This guy was ridiculous! He glanced at Cardamon, who had stepped back, with carefully raised eyebrows after Artur Lore had swung round to talk to the other lady.
He wasn't sure what to make of the whole situation. Certainly, they hadn't had such a...magnetic personality in town recently, and he was beginning to worry about the town's women, who were gravitating towards the handsome, if extremely ridiculous magician. Noting with some relief that Cardamon (for the moment) was still looking skeptical of the whole arrangement, he stepped a bit closer to her, nudged her and said, "Crazy man, huh?"
"He's either a madman or a genius." Cardamon said, thoughtfully, "Or perhaps neither, or a little of both. Or something else altogether."
It was a fair assessment, Theo thought. He certainly hadn't been able to come to any better conclusion.

Opal was rather surprised that Artur could talk that much. He was obviously quite full of himself. "Maybe I shouldn't try to talk to him..." She thought. She didn't want to just leave though, as it all seemed quite interesting, and if she could only get into the conversation she might actually find out something worthwhile. By the time he had finished talking Opal found herself smiling.