The Ctan
17-03-2008, 20:22
The city was one of a small number of soaring white constructs, slender white towers behind high shining walls decorated with silver and sapphire runes. The skies over it were blue, turning to black on the east side in the dusk light, and orange in the west. The world had little atmosphere; enough, thanks to high oxygen content, but still thin, and its gravity was light. In the halfway point between the galactic rim and the centre, the moon of Yanga orbited a great gas giant, in a binary system; however, its orbit was stable enough and warm enough to support life. Its architecture followed a dozen different forms, at least, for it was a place that many refugees from slavery went, when taken by the C’tan.
These most recent immigrants were former slaves of the Druchii, liberated not by direct force but by treaty, this town was created by a race called the Asur, a type of elf, whose place of origin had not yet been found; the initial population had been those who had initially been held for ‘sale’ and indeed, this was one of the few settlements upon the world not likely to grow in the near future, for from what was known, Asur themselves did not do well in captivity
One of many cities on the planet, this place was actually, under its quaint surface, highly industrialised, consisting of a great amount of industries, especially the craft of magical items, albeit not at an advanced level. The Asur were easily able to dwell and feed themselves, but they, as most peoples swiftly re-developed once their initial needs were met, longed for travel, entertainment and goods from beyond their world, and for that, many industries catered to export.
A comparatively minor tax was levied on such export – or rather, a subscription for the use of C’tani portals for goods transport – was used to provide a fund which was used to increase the influence of the C’tan in key areas of the economy of their former oppressors.
The brief tour over, the dignitaries that had been surveying the city were walking back along the outer wall. Sirithil looking down at the oaken forests, and at the pair of artificial, magical life forms, created by the town’s most able wizard, wrapped around her outstretched hand, little green dragons, with frills and crests that mimicked the distinctive waver of oak leaves. The two curled up on the elf queen’s hand, looking down leerily at Angatsa and Angcarca, tiger sized Aelosian wolfhounds that padded silently behind the Elentári. The little dragons were gifts from their creator, one to her, and one to her companion. She turned to look at Alessa; who was looking with rather more interest at the temples.
The diminutive reptile chirruped, perched in a tree overlooking the highest point in Fëanor palace, fluttering his wings. Ezelrámar, so the Elentári had named him, in so doing, giving the miniature dragon an ability to understand the very concept of a name, and a limited ability to understand speech that used that name, had taken time to become accustomed to the strange nature of the trees here, they soared above the grassy garden floor, and seemed to somehow be watchful. Nonetheless, even the oak dragon’s limited perception and intelligence was soothed to peace by the place, a sanctum of great power, and though he couldn’t find any really good food, he nibbled on a leaf, his serpentine body wrapped around a branch, and watched his mistress.
She stood on the highest of the platforms that seemed to hang high over the floor, this one home to a number of revered artifacts of the Artaralúcë, chief amongst them, the Anor-stone, an orb of black crystal normally imprisoned in a sardarauta casing decorated with Mithril and galvorn, upon a plinth of black stone that contained numerous mechanisms for alignment and enhancement of images. The Palantiri were one of the few things that could not be duplicated, for while the making of similar objects was possible, they were valued by the elves for their ability to see the things in the past they had seen, and to be used to align with their cousin stones in Eressëa, even in the present.
There were other lesser rivals of this stone here, Halratíri, two of them, of the same size, a foot in width, and encased similarly, though in one instance with gold, instead of Mithril, their crystal, when exposed, was less impermeable, merely made from black or even transparent Angvírin. The Halratíri were the creation of Celebrimbor, lesser copies, and some speculated that he had left at least one in Eressëa, too, though he had denied this when it had been asked. First used over twenty thousand years ago, Fëanor palace and the Artaoron both contained great master stones for these, as did some other cities, and even elder colony worlds; Caras Carnil had a Tára-Halratír that had been seen publicly, and rumour had it that one was on Eärendil as well.
This one was the least useful of the palantíri, damaged by the death and dismay of its most famed user, whose flame wrapped hands could be yet seen whenever it was used. Sirithil kept it with her often, because, of the two in use in Menelmacar, this one required greater exertion of will to make useful, and so was less useful elsewhere.
Nonetheless, Sirithil used it more than she had in the past, for at the moment; with the flight of Morgoth all seven of the palantíri were reckoned to be secure, at least from the malice of the Enemy. For long whiles, from time to time, she was known to use it, communicating with those few far off places it could be easily directed to.
The light it shed was like none other on the Earth, save that shed by some few hallowed jewels of uncountable value, and lit her eyes with the view beyond it, which, even to the diminutive oak-dragon, seemed rapturous.
She lifted her hand from the stone, and the light within it vanished into a pinprick of scattered light, as the plinth under it parted a little way, sinking it down into the black stone of its raised panel, enclosing it in complex segments of armour, and hiding it from view, moments later, another stone emerged, in identical armour, a duplicate in almost every detail.
The Elentári turned around, and lightly walked down the steps connecting this platform to one below it, filled with fragrant flowers from Indiastan, one of a number of gardens raised above the floor level, that served as linking platforms, small conference areas, writing desks, viewing areas, and guard posts.
The library of the personal quarters was three floors below the great office of the Elentári, and occupied an entire floor of the tower, in places, divided in two to allow more storage, filled with light from scores of high narrow windows.
Light fell upon the bookshelves that held thousands of specially bound books. Their shelves were the type invented by Rimbecalimon, one of the lore-masters of the Library of Ages. These consisted of climate-controlled bookcases, each in units of three feet wide, with three airtight stained glass segments that could be moved aside on rails at the front, decorated in such a manner that they showed the titles of each book behind them. These cases were often darkened, to prevent sun fading, and filled – until someone approached them – with noble gasses, to prevent any bacteria thriving within them. As well as this, they had a minor enchantment upon them, a virtue that would aid anyone looking at them to find what they sought.
The elven lady smiled, coming between the low hanging ceiling of one part, into the soaring reading area of the library, looking for and finding, perched beyond a great ring of high seats, near a small tree, beyond a quiet – surprisingly so, since it fell almost fifty feet from the office high above – waterfall, it too was enchanted, to be precisely as quiet as it needed to be to avoid being distracting.
“Alessa,” Sirithil said, looking at the far shorter guest in the narrow end of the library, against wide, clear, windows, “you had something you wished to discuss?”
These most recent immigrants were former slaves of the Druchii, liberated not by direct force but by treaty, this town was created by a race called the Asur, a type of elf, whose place of origin had not yet been found; the initial population had been those who had initially been held for ‘sale’ and indeed, this was one of the few settlements upon the world not likely to grow in the near future, for from what was known, Asur themselves did not do well in captivity
One of many cities on the planet, this place was actually, under its quaint surface, highly industrialised, consisting of a great amount of industries, especially the craft of magical items, albeit not at an advanced level. The Asur were easily able to dwell and feed themselves, but they, as most peoples swiftly re-developed once their initial needs were met, longed for travel, entertainment and goods from beyond their world, and for that, many industries catered to export.
A comparatively minor tax was levied on such export – or rather, a subscription for the use of C’tani portals for goods transport – was used to provide a fund which was used to increase the influence of the C’tan in key areas of the economy of their former oppressors.
The brief tour over, the dignitaries that had been surveying the city were walking back along the outer wall. Sirithil looking down at the oaken forests, and at the pair of artificial, magical life forms, created by the town’s most able wizard, wrapped around her outstretched hand, little green dragons, with frills and crests that mimicked the distinctive waver of oak leaves. The two curled up on the elf queen’s hand, looking down leerily at Angatsa and Angcarca, tiger sized Aelosian wolfhounds that padded silently behind the Elentári. The little dragons were gifts from their creator, one to her, and one to her companion. She turned to look at Alessa; who was looking with rather more interest at the temples.
The diminutive reptile chirruped, perched in a tree overlooking the highest point in Fëanor palace, fluttering his wings. Ezelrámar, so the Elentári had named him, in so doing, giving the miniature dragon an ability to understand the very concept of a name, and a limited ability to understand speech that used that name, had taken time to become accustomed to the strange nature of the trees here, they soared above the grassy garden floor, and seemed to somehow be watchful. Nonetheless, even the oak dragon’s limited perception and intelligence was soothed to peace by the place, a sanctum of great power, and though he couldn’t find any really good food, he nibbled on a leaf, his serpentine body wrapped around a branch, and watched his mistress.
She stood on the highest of the platforms that seemed to hang high over the floor, this one home to a number of revered artifacts of the Artaralúcë, chief amongst them, the Anor-stone, an orb of black crystal normally imprisoned in a sardarauta casing decorated with Mithril and galvorn, upon a plinth of black stone that contained numerous mechanisms for alignment and enhancement of images. The Palantiri were one of the few things that could not be duplicated, for while the making of similar objects was possible, they were valued by the elves for their ability to see the things in the past they had seen, and to be used to align with their cousin stones in Eressëa, even in the present.
There were other lesser rivals of this stone here, Halratíri, two of them, of the same size, a foot in width, and encased similarly, though in one instance with gold, instead of Mithril, their crystal, when exposed, was less impermeable, merely made from black or even transparent Angvírin. The Halratíri were the creation of Celebrimbor, lesser copies, and some speculated that he had left at least one in Eressëa, too, though he had denied this when it had been asked. First used over twenty thousand years ago, Fëanor palace and the Artaoron both contained great master stones for these, as did some other cities, and even elder colony worlds; Caras Carnil had a Tára-Halratír that had been seen publicly, and rumour had it that one was on Eärendil as well.
This one was the least useful of the palantíri, damaged by the death and dismay of its most famed user, whose flame wrapped hands could be yet seen whenever it was used. Sirithil kept it with her often, because, of the two in use in Menelmacar, this one required greater exertion of will to make useful, and so was less useful elsewhere.
Nonetheless, Sirithil used it more than she had in the past, for at the moment; with the flight of Morgoth all seven of the palantíri were reckoned to be secure, at least from the malice of the Enemy. For long whiles, from time to time, she was known to use it, communicating with those few far off places it could be easily directed to.
The light it shed was like none other on the Earth, save that shed by some few hallowed jewels of uncountable value, and lit her eyes with the view beyond it, which, even to the diminutive oak-dragon, seemed rapturous.
She lifted her hand from the stone, and the light within it vanished into a pinprick of scattered light, as the plinth under it parted a little way, sinking it down into the black stone of its raised panel, enclosing it in complex segments of armour, and hiding it from view, moments later, another stone emerged, in identical armour, a duplicate in almost every detail.
The Elentári turned around, and lightly walked down the steps connecting this platform to one below it, filled with fragrant flowers from Indiastan, one of a number of gardens raised above the floor level, that served as linking platforms, small conference areas, writing desks, viewing areas, and guard posts.
The library of the personal quarters was three floors below the great office of the Elentári, and occupied an entire floor of the tower, in places, divided in two to allow more storage, filled with light from scores of high narrow windows.
Light fell upon the bookshelves that held thousands of specially bound books. Their shelves were the type invented by Rimbecalimon, one of the lore-masters of the Library of Ages. These consisted of climate-controlled bookcases, each in units of three feet wide, with three airtight stained glass segments that could be moved aside on rails at the front, decorated in such a manner that they showed the titles of each book behind them. These cases were often darkened, to prevent sun fading, and filled – until someone approached them – with noble gasses, to prevent any bacteria thriving within them. As well as this, they had a minor enchantment upon them, a virtue that would aid anyone looking at them to find what they sought.
The elven lady smiled, coming between the low hanging ceiling of one part, into the soaring reading area of the library, looking for and finding, perched beyond a great ring of high seats, near a small tree, beyond a quiet – surprisingly so, since it fell almost fifty feet from the office high above – waterfall, it too was enchanted, to be precisely as quiet as it needed to be to avoid being distracting.
“Alessa,” Sirithil said, looking at the far shorter guest in the narrow end of the library, against wide, clear, windows, “you had something you wished to discuss?”