A Chrysid lore NPC located in the Library at Greathive Aratel, next to the mystic. Seeming to be involved with world around them as they talk a lot about the "Acolyte" and how they're watched to at least "seem busy.
Dialogue[]
| *There is something unmistakably different in this Chrysid's demeanour. From posture, to poise, to garb, to mannerism - they are not like those you have run into before.* Is there anyth'ng I can help you with? | *Even making eye contact with the Chrysid is downright unbearable. Best to think before you speak next time.*(Chose "So, do they really burn people over there?" option.) | |
|---|---|---|
| 1. ... [Linger.] | [End Dialogue] | |
| *The Chrysid's eyes you up briskly, seemingly unsuprised by the lack of a response. His voice is thick with an unknown dialect.* Stop gawking, th'ambulo. The Isles aren't some foreign concept, nor are our archi'vst's presences here am'ngst the Greathive. Anyone who has lurked here would know. And we've stayed here long past our welcome. | ||
| 1. ..Past your welcome? | ||
| *A sigh is stifled, and you can almost read the sarcasm on his face.* Are you ev'n caught up with the affairs of today? It's near impossible to get from here to there t'anywhere with the amount of Author'ty ships stalking any boat that dares to sail. Our Aecti work'ng here have long finish'd all needed communication. I don't suppose you're here to tell us that we can sudd'nly return home? | ||
| 1. Work? | 2. Return home? | |
| Research. Diplom'tics. You see, how it's meant to go is, every year, once our Confessor dec'rees it, our Echelon sends a few of us arch'vists here to bring yearly records of heritage, births, deaths, all the sort. *He gestures to a passing Chrysid in similar garb, parchments in hand. They ignore you both.* We do an exchange, we go back home. You could call it a celebrati'n of our once-distant ancestry. Must be all backlog'd now, the poor Aecti at home. Eagerly waiting for our arrival to ship us with piles of doc'ments right off again, with that Acolyte keep'ng us all on a tight leash. Can't wait. | Home, yes. The Isles. Didn't I mention that earlier. Most certainly still a foreign concept to you - A place far more structur'd than anything out here could fathom. Our Confessor does make it all so s'mple. Almost excruciat'ng to be stuck here, being gawked at by passers-by. Though I haven't been outs'de all too much, under strict watch from our Acolyte - archiv'sts are meant to at least seem busy. Speaking of which, if she passes - this is a product've conversation on the most effic'ent way to store family trees. | |
| 1. The Acolyte? | ||
| A lead ambassador of sorts, if that helps. Commun'cates the Confessor's needs and decr'ees with the outside world. Leads a group of us arch'vists to be students under her work here, learning all there is to know about the niches and delights of document sort'ng. Then, once we're either useful or annoying enough, they send us back so we can put our skills to work in one of many Arch'ves. I'm trying to go for the latter. | ||
| 1. Do you like your work here? | 2. So, do they really burn people over there? | |
| *He somehow shrugs without shrugging.* Better than being stuck in a vilage for the rest of my life. Us Aecti always like to praise the peacef'l rural life, but it's at least fulfill'ng to work somewhere a little more exciting. Something where you feel you are useful to your Faith. Reward'ing. Now, are we done? | I don't want to talk to you anymore. | |
| [End Dialogue] | ||