[center][img]http://s25.postimg.org/kosvah54v/cooltext166741318147104.png[/img]
[color=Peru][b]The Great Artisan, Divine Mason, Builder of Civilisations
Level 4 God of Crafting (Masonry)[/b]
19.5 Might & 2 Free Points[/color]
[h3]&[/h3]
[img]https://40.media.tumblr.com/4f0c243d80adb7364cfdd22110297d81/tumblr_o2t1ksU5vW1u5gf80o1_500.png[/img]
[colour=9e0b0f][s][b]All-Beauty, the Cancer that Breathes[/b][/s]
14 Might & 1 Free Point[/colour]
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Teknall was working in the village, creating buckets of wood sealed with resin for carrying water from the river, which was a notable walk away. While he laboured with his hands, his mind was elsewhere, troubled.

There had been many disturbances in recent times. Most personally, he had managed to accidentally ignite a small cult of people who called themselves Chippers, who saught to spread knowledge in the name of Stone Chipper and Teknall. While this of itself was a great thing, persecutions had arisen against them in some places. He had personally sneaked out at night and spied upon the events, travelling across Galbar in an instant and staying invisible to mortal eyes. To his great sorrow seven Chippers had already been killed, lynched by mobs overcome with superstition and drowned in the river and lake. This, he realised, was the price of revealing even a slither of divinity to mortals. Feeling responsible for their safety, he went to those who remained and whispered to them in their sleep, telling to be wary, and to avoid those villages who had slain their brothers in faith. If some Hain were not willing to listen to the truth, then they shall have none of it until they were willing.

A much greater, yet more mysterious, disturbance had also occurred. He had felt a huge surge of energy out in the direction of the Firewind Desert one day, yet its nature was unknown to him. All he could tell was that there had been a great storm, for he could perceive the meteorological evidence and electric discharges even from very far away, which told him Zephyrion had been involved. But something much more powerful than a storm of the First Gale had occurred that day, yet when he had teleported over at the end of the day no evidence of what had occurred remained short of some lightning-fused sand. When he was free he would have to ask Zephyrion about it.

Yet his brooding was cut short when he sensed a tremor in the ground. It was too faint for mortal perception, yet it did not feel like an earthquake. Instead, it felt like an... explosion?

Seconds later, his divine perception picked up another anomaly, this time in the wind. This anomaly was too fine for mortal perception, yet Teknall could identify it with clarity. On the wind were many viral particles, all identical in composition. While he could not decipher their function, he could identify their author- Jvan.

[color=Peru][i]What are you up to, sister?[/i][/color] Teknall thought, although he had little time to think. At a wave of his hand the currents in the air shifted themselves, and the virus-bearing cloud was diverted from the village. Not a single speck of the virus landed within 50 kilometers of the village, yet Teknall realised that the victory was slight. From the spread and the path, along with the correllation with the explosion, he feared that this virus was much more wide-spread than just locally. Yet he still did not know what it did, and he feared he might not know until too late.

Through all this the village was oblivious. They had seen nothing, felt nothing, experienced nothing. At most, they would have noticed Stone Chipper look to the sky with concern before waving a hand. This was another thing to concern him. Another thing he must work on.

[center]~-===-~[/center]

It was but a few days later that, as he was trying to sleep, Teknall noticed another disturbance, yet this one was much more subtle than the last few. A peach-coloured fiberling, bearing a Jvanic Eye, had been wandering this locality for the last few days now, slowly getting closer to the village and zeroing in on his location. It was still fifty kilometers away, yet Teknall was convinced that its path was no accident.

It would not do at all to allow the Fiberling to walk into the village, and even less so for it to start talking to him in front of all these Hain. So, silently, he slipped out of the village and into the undergrowth. As soon as he was out of sight he vanished completely. Concealed, he bounded across the hills, until he was close to Amber, at which point he revealed himself and walked closer at a regular pace.

[color=Peru]"I noticed you following me. Searching for me,"[/color] Teknall stated, [color=Peru]"Well, here I am. What do you want, Jvan?"[/color]

Even now that the [b]God who was Hain[/b] had come forth in courtesy, it was only the Eye within the optic fiberling that identified the wanderer. In form, he was not so different to the strong hunter-gatherers to which he passed on his knowledge, though he stood with a confidence no ordinary hain commanded in the face of such a morass of hair.

Cowed by the change of role, Amber stopped abruptly. The rhythm of a tired slog was a dizzying thing to break, and the fiberling milled a little, forgetting why it had come and where it was going. Its journey had been one of a long stumble, and the effects of the Valley of Peace had not worn off. The beasts of the open forests were apt to rage harder against its grasp, and much of its dyed hairs were now simple grass-veins and bark strings, tough, brittle stuff that stilted its body to reflect its blunted nerves.

Amber's body shuffled to eject a fluttering mouth. The angel revolved in place, its balance thrown by the wilt of age, and there was a quavering undertone to the upbeat voice. This message had been pickled long seasons beyond its time.

[color=9e0b0f]"Hello agaIn, Brother Mason. Have you found the new race as full of pOtential as I thou[-]t you migHt? A throwing-club one of my Sculptors inherited tells me someone's been teaching tHem.

"Yes... They were Toun's ofFspring originally, but wE cReate and we move on, and our work is contin[-]d by otherS. Teknall, I find myself more and More enamoured with the Urtelem, aNd, again, with your incr[-]ble foresight. The world is grown crowded, as we kNew it would, and though crOwds are cozy, they are alSo dangerous. My children sing of the acceptance they receive from yours', which tHey strug[-]e to find among other races.

"You haVe anointed a chosen people with your gUiding hand, and I want your per[-]ssion to chose one from your fold likewise. Let's foRge a bond between Sculptor and Stone that they will botH aPpreciate. Please, Teknall, teach the Urtelem to dance their thoughts with hand and bOdy, so that they can share fellowship of langua[-]e with the Sculptors, and I will give them a gift of coordination- Of a measuring mind and disceRning eye. With bonds of language and cognition between tHemselves, and my own chi[-]ren among them, they'll expresS themselves with art and artifice, and... And I don't knOw what will Happen then! But I want to find out, brotheR. I want to [i]see[/i] it.

"Will you grant me this?"[/color]

This request of Jvan was an intriguing one, even so far as to excuse her for disturbing his work with the Hain. To grant the Urtelem a language which can be understood by others, so they may share in the cultural and artisitic prowess of the Sculptors... yes, this would be a good and interesting thing.

[color=Peru]"I made the Urtelem as protectors, mainly for the Hain against the Ashlings, and also the Fiberlings who dare attack their villages. But in my foresight I made them flexible and versatile, and this has resulted in them being used in ways, useful ways, beyond the plans I initially had in mind.

"I have seen the suffering of your Sculptors, brought about by an unnatural aversion to your creations. It saddens me, too, for they have great potential..."[/color] Teknall's voice trailed off as he remembered the plight of the Chippers. He did know how Jvan must have felt when the Sculptors were first driven out of the villages, denied their place in soceity. Or, at least, he suspected he knew, for Jvan's mind was very alien.

Teknall snapped back to attention and continued, [color=Peru]"Yet it makes me glad to hear that they have found a home amongst my Urtelem. I accept your offer. However, before you take me to where they have made their homes, I must ask...

"A few days ago, I sensed an explosion, and carried in the wind by the shockwave of that explosion was a virus of your design, carried across Galbar. I know not what that virus does, yet the worry plagues me. What have you done to the Hain, Jvan?"[/color] The last line was no mere question. It bore hints of accusation, and his right pair of eyes locked with the probing orb within Amber, demanding an answer. The beaded side-gaze of the deity fell on the furry ball like a hot wind, and it withered back from confrontation.

The receding seethe of the fiberling's body left a shallow depression, through which the wrinkles of its ovary could be seen shivering. As the connection reset, the organ bulged and ejected another speaker. Folding into shape, its voice was steady and fresh. Jvan had waited long to hear these words. Rekindled excitement would not be bridled long by talk of projects already well en route to completion.

[colour=9e0b0f]"Oh, don't concern yourself too deeply with my... Little feud! The edits will sink in quite smoothly after a few generations, when the mutagens are deeply absorbed and the tribes have had a little time to integrate the stress."[/colour] Perhaps blinded by her confidence, well-grounded though it was in Heartworm's skill as a meatsmith, the ritualistic instinct did not register to Jvan as something that would cause the mason-god much concern. [colour=9e0b0f]"Let's see... I'll have to bring my toolkit to a few stoneherds one after another to fulfil my half. My students stay in touch, I can map them just here..."[/colour] As if rummaging, the speaking organ bent on itself, quite oblivious to Teknall's glare. It flipped itself inside-out to reveal a bulge of skin beaded with chromatophores, forming the clear outline of a local map. [colour=9e0b0f]"But we can get started immediately!"[/colour]

Jvan's response did little to ease Teknall's concern, but the map and the anticipation of work, along with Jvan's own enthusiasm, was almost enough to divert Teknall's attention. But he caught himself. He could not let every slight against the Hain slip away. His voice as hard as granite, he asked again, [color=Peru]"You haven't properly answered my question. The Hain [i]are[/i] my concern, and I will not just let you brush this aside. So I will ask again. [i]What[/i] did you do to the Hain?"[/color]

Only now did Jvan perk up her attention to the jarred ring of Teknall's tone. [colour=9e0b0f][i]But... Is he depending on them for something?[/i][/colour] A god, by nature, needed little but to express themselves. [colour=9e0b0f][i]Well, the hain need to be in fit shape to be taught craftshainship. Of course. You're being protective.[/i] Quite [i]protective, yes. It's a little odd.[/i][/colour] Still, there was no reason not to settle his doubts. A little sympathy rarely went awry, even through confusion.

Amber's battery of organic devices stretched oddly, working at something it was not quite meant to produce. The next speaking-angel emerged bearing a bulging black sac, like a small waterskin.

[colour=9e0b0f]"A strategic move where I've been slighted, is what I've wrought. The, [i]aversion[/i] of my children by hain and other beings- Ants, especially, tireless little things- It hampers their task. And it is artificial. The will of the Viceregent of the Void, erratic though it is, not something I could repel with simple law of force, so forgive me, if you need to, for having found a more efficient way to dilute that phobia."[/colour] The cocoon split along its length, and a small, cabbage-white faery emerged, its wings still inflating from the wilt of youth. Carefully, Teknall reached down and picked up the odd creature, holding it with its blade between two fingers and inspecting it at eye level. It was cold to the touch, despite being alive, and a black substance stained his fingertips.

[colour=9e0b0f]"This creature is a new design- You may see it often once they breed a few generations more. It has a blade, a needlepoint, tipped with ink and strong enough to-"[/colour] Well, no going back now. [colour=9e0b0f]"cut hainbone. With a little effort. The dye stains deeply in the furrows until the slough comes. Until then, the hain is stuck with whatever they've chosen to inscribe. That is the function of the viroids. Once in a lifetime, when the hain is accepted as strong enough to stand up against what they fear- They'll mark themselves with its face. My face. They'll learn to be brave."[/colour] And, well, more than a little frightened.

Teknall thought deeply for a few moments, inspecting the needle faery. Then his expression softened, and he released the Other-being, which fluttered off. [color=Peru]"Ah, I understand now. I had noticed this aversion. In my training of my apprentice, I've had to teach him to act with his head and not his instinct, but as for the rest of the Hain... your methods are unconventional, but they always have been, yet they are also carefully planned. I apologise for my rudeness. It's just that the Hain need someone to look out for them."[/color]

Teknall paused for a moment to breath, then continued. [color=Peru]"Now, onto that work you wanted me to do."[/color] He bent down to inspect the map. [color=Peru]"Ah, yes, I recognise that river. I'll head over now."[/color]

He set off for the Sculptor and the herd of Urtelem as marked on the map, travelling at a bounding pace. It took him little time to detect the green frill of the vale, and in just a couple of minutes he was there. There was good reason why the Hain of his village did not venture among these ferns, lush though they were, nested with birbs and cycad seeds. The river-carven valley was uneven, and steeper than its undergrowth made it appear- Its residents had a safer method of coming in and out.

Restful as the trees, the Urtelem waited with barely a shuffle. Though some of them were imposing, even when still, one had an odd lack of solidity. Its stone had receded into [url=http://spiriferminerals.com/foto_artyk/adelaide_2010/86b.jpg]crystal-framed[/url] arms, perhaps ten of them, and it did not sleep. One too many eyes pricked up towards the sound, obsidian-veined grey glancing around with a keen interest the Stonemen usually kept rare.

[colour=9e0b0f]"A little further,"[/colour] spoke a muffled voice from within the jagged Urtelem-Sculptor. Something small and flat poked out from between its tangle of limbs and fingers. [colour=9e0b0f]"Come down, join us!"[/colour] The Heartworm did not open its mouth to speak, and its blanked-out eyes did not focus. Jvan's words rattled through from somewhere behind its teeth.

The sight of the Urtelem-Sculptor intrigued Teknall, its crystalline, multi-limbed structure being a most unusual reimagining of the stoneman's form. Although he had seen Hain Sculptors, and how radically different they were from their original form and each other, he had never imagined anything closely resembling the being before him. It noticed Teknall long after he noticed it, discerning the form of a Hain, and backing down into the tree-aloes. Hain, it knew, were unsafe company, and this one held a peculiar aura of strength. He descended into the vale, and when he heard Jvan's voice he approached closer. The Heartworm was also peculiar, although his divine sense told him that this worm was not simply Jvanic but in fact embodied Jvan herself, at least in part.

When Teknall was just a few paces away, he commented. [color=Peru]"What an... interesting design."[/color] While Teknall was able to, and usually did, appreciate Jvan's work, he did not share her concepts of beauty. Not that he considered it inherently ugly, just something different. [color=Peru]"Where shall we start?"[/color]

[colour=9e0b0f]"Soon,"[/colour] answered Jvan, perhaps not choosing the right words. She let the puppet-form drop, skimming it easily over the moss to where the chiseled grey of the lead-Urtelem munched on the green-black stone. [colour=9e0b0f]"Now."[/colour] Some teeth unlocked, and a thin, ribbon-like arm extended, tracing gently the solid shape of the being's forearm.

Teknall walked up to the lead-Urtelem, but stopped short. He actually wasn't sure about [i]how[/i] to start. His media were stone and wood and other inanimate materials, not the intricasies of the mind. How he had taught the Hain had been slow, taking years to enact, and only really encompassed things already well within their mental grasp. Yet this was a fairly radical change, a whole new language, and he wanted to implant that knowledge in just one night.

[colour=9e0b0f]"The template, of course, is the crucial part. A design can be replicated. My envoy will spread this culture where it needs to be."[/colour] A second arm emerged, furled like a proboscis, and poked around the Urtelem's back until it found the thick ring of its neck and disappeared there. [colour=9e0b0f]"Better it stays asleep for a while, calm though it is." [i]I wonder if I'll trip its peace-instinct.[/i] "These muscles... To speak, one needs a mouth, and mouths are delicate. These arms and hands are your architecture."[/colour] Tensing slightly, the first arm snaked down to the verdantly overgrown shoulder of the creature. A shallow line of teeth at the edge of the ribbon bit into the surface of the igneous skin, and layers crumbled away in neat sheets as it sawed. Jvan wasn't entirely sure when to stop, but at some point there was a clear shift in the consistency of the stone, less cracked by erosion and age, neater. Fitted together and colourful.

[colour=9e0b0f]"Such delicacy, to make the rocks of the earth move and feel."[/colour] Jvan found herself again thinking of the hain, the odd protectiveness Teknall had shown. That was where this species in all its complexity had begun. [colour=9e0b0f][i]He is bound to them closely... Is it his nature?[/i] "Anyway- Start here, if you will, at the... Nerves? The control of the hands and body. Connect them to the emotional sectors of its thinking devices. Somewhere in there, I'm sure, it has the capacity to feel and remember. Let me watch. I want to see you paint."[/colour]

[color=Peru]"Yes... I am the architect of not only its body but its mind also. I know how it is put together. I should be able to tinker its design,"[/color] Teknall said. He had watched the Heartworm delicately sample some of the Urtelem's stoney skin and inspect its workings manually. Surgery may be the method of the Heartworm, but Teknall had more subtle methods.

He laid a hand on the Urtelem's forehead, closed his eyes and projected his power. His essence became one with the stone, such that he not only knew the placement of every grain, crystal and fissure but could bend and sculpt it to his will. Jvan had a good instinct with such manipulations, though, so he took her advice and started re-wiring the silicon nerves between the limbs and brain. New connections, new associations. Urtelem already had the ability of communication, so all he needed to do was connect it to the motor cortex. It was delicate work, for while he had designed the mind's architecture it had been shaped, moulded and modified by generations of evolution and centuries of living, and Teknall did not want to damage any of it.

Teknall stood there for around an hour, unmoving as the Urtelem he was working on. While Jvan had wanted to watch, no visible changes were wrought. The only external sign of any activity was a very faint golden glow where Teknall's palm touched the Urtelem. The Heartworm could not see through the stone into its semiconductor mind. That forwards exchange of energy seemed almost dull, and not just for lack of trying, as it pulled stalks of colourful eyes out of its body to peer into the light. No, the fine changes were to be observed elsewhere, through the incised window of the Urtelem's body. Enthusiasm ever-rising, Jvan probed into the mineral-flesh to feel neurons crystallising and growing, forming new connections and severing some others. [colour=9e0b0f][i]A stable composite is being created- It is in motion![/i][/colour]

Finally, Teknall awoke. Before he removed his palm the scars left by Heartworm, small as they may be, closed over, sealed as though they had never been, and the godlet detached from its perch. Then he stepped back, and about a minute later the Urtelem stirred from its induced slumber. In a gravelly voice that should not have been possible for any body of flesh, Teknall rumbled something to the Urtelem and accompanied those words with a simple yet expressive gesture of his arms. The Urtelem grumbled and waved a hand in response.

Satisified with his work, he turned to the Heartworm. [color=Peru]"It is done. Of course, it will take time for them to learn how to use and understand it properly, but they will."[/color]

He bent down to the ground and touched his hand to it. In response, the earth yielded a rock of granite flecked with quartz crystals which fitted within his grasp. He placed this rock in the Urtelem's hand, as if for compensation, and the stone man placed it in his mouth and ate it. In response, Teknall got a grunt and a shrug. 

[colour=9e0b0f]"Yes... Yes, it is good!"[/colour]

Jvan flicked her body up and around the massive feet of the solemn earthen being well pleased, a patron seeing the results of her commission for the first time. From Heartworm's mouth emerged a spindly, threadlike pedipalp, its joints buckling as it tip-toed over key points of the lead Urtelem's face and hands. A flexible feeler at the final knuckle measured every length and ripple of wisened rock. Listened for the echoes of vitality. [colour=9e0b0f]"A perfect specimen, brother,"[/colour] the voice breathed. [colour=9e0b0f]"Your craftsmanship... I will not let your efforts go to waste. This sweet stonechild will teach a new tongue to Urtelem across the world."[/colour]

A withered moon-shadow came over the valley, barely noticeable among the stretched shades of the trees by means of all its empty space. A clicking vertebral necklace drifted down, and Jvan used it to creep her Heartworm's body back to its nest, lowering it into the valley until its outer eyes brushed gently against the treetops. The vessel's own voice, raspier, mixed with Jvan's own, echoing the same words. [colour=9e0b0f]"Thank you, Teknall. I will fulfil my promise as well as I can."[/colour]

Stupendously long for its thinness, the avatar's insectile limb was joined by another of similar design, and then several more, draping over the back of the Urtelem as it looked up into the large shape which had come into its valley. It tensed. Something had changed in the auras of the visitor. A mixed signal, but one that pertained, at least in part, to...

Flicking the air with their speed, the tendrils at the end of Heartworm's limbs spun around the elder's earthen limbs and waist and torso, defying their size as ten tonnes of drone-roaring Urtelem body was hoisted high into the air. [colour=9e0b0f]"Forgive me for a little haste, brother mason; This stoneclan will not appreciate my hand as much as yours, and I would rather see where their new instincts take them than ask their stillness."[/colour] A diverse multitude of appendages joined the restraints, most of them bearing neat hunks of mineral material, raw resources for construction.

Jvan had learned much in seeing the way that the silicate neural matrix had grown under Teknall's hand, but her avatar was not able to use the same means. One moonlit facet at a time, she neatly opened up the thick rock skin of the large being, and starting with its thought apparatus, spread and categorised the components of its life in [url=https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/19/42/e6/1942e6937c317fcc13eb1d153ce7343e.jpg]tidy diagramatic form[/url] above the ground, twisting and tweaking and scissoring delicately at it and the stone samples. Manually duplicating an addition not too different to Teknall's directness.

Below, the herd was not still. Though muddled by Jvan's constructive intentions, their sense for aggression would not let the breaking of their matriarch pass by. As a precaution, Teknall ascended the valley slopes to be clear of the angered herd of Urtelem. Their shoulders clacked and rumbled against one another, even as the arms of the worm arranged the pieces of the lead Urtelem back into their designated slots within the skin with swiftness of confident accuracy. Other pieces, new pieces, were lifted up into an open lobe of the living laboratory, and arranged similarly. Even for the Engineer, the speed of the process was exhausting. Tired satisfaction buoyed her heart as she sealed the skin of the edited elder and lowered it, shouting once more and locked in powerful throes of anger, onto the earth from which it came. A beautiful, skinless replica bathed in the moonlit organ above, sleeping silently.

With a spiky red blur, their sibling-sculptor had joined the herd. Their voices were simple but clear in defiance at the thing in the sky, and none clearer than that of their resurrected leader. A vivid element of motion had been added to that one's anger. Fists, scowls, stamping feet and pumping arms at the air. The spindly sibling's mind thrummed and buzzed with confused loyalty to the wisdom of its teacher. [colour=9e0b0f][i]Try telling them, student. Go on.[/i][/colour]

A sharply heartfelt dance joined the herd, now waving curves and downwards gestures that bid calm, now sharp turns in direction that demanded it. One particular set of glittering Urtelem eyes did not ignore the motion. There was no end to the rumbling of the abducted matriarch's voice, but the harsh movements of its hands changed, traced the pattern of the Sculptor's dance and punctuated it with dissenting claps and chest-beating, with the open palms of sorrow, the hunched shoulders of fear. The elder's smaller, delicate red follower was unable to calm their surging emotion, but Jvan was no less overjoyed.

For all the misunderstandings and mistranslations, for all the unresolved roughness and unguided gestures, an exchange was taking place.

[colour=9e0b0f]"They'll get better at it,"[/colour] breathed the spent voices from above. [colour=9e0b0f]"I've... Given them that. They'll organise, I mean. Arrange numbers and meanings into their right order, and, ah, gestures into the right sentences... You'll see it! I have the plans, now, the map, and I'll take it all over Galbar."[/colour] The quiet clone-form of the stone elder rested in the fluid of the vesicle, weighing down the entire nest on one side. [colour=9e0b0f][i]This weight I'm more than happy to bear.[/i][/colour]

Teknall had watched all this, from Heartworm's expert surgery to the emotive, gesture-filled conversation below, and he was impressed. Heartworm, and by extension Jvan, displayed substantial skill as an artisan of the body, able to disassemble and reassemble the living Urtelem without inflicting any lasting harm. And the body-language of the Urtelem truly enriched their communication, expanding their ability to express ideas to each other beyond their rudimentary speech. [color=Peru]"Indeed. I trust you to finish this work. I must return to the village before dawn, before they notice I've disappeared. Until we next meet, farewell sister."[/color] He waved to Heartworm in its floating workshop of flesh as he turned to leave.

Before dawn, yes. [colour=9e0b0f][i]Will they miss you, brother mason? Do they hold you as more than a teacher? Family?[/i][/colour] Jvan pondered this, this new concept. Worship was easy and familiar, but perhaps Teknall had found something even stranger to do with mortals. Closeness. Relationship.

She swivelled her outer-eyes back down. The Sculptor had evidently been dismissed, and its elder was huddled with its own family, recovering from the fright of what had occurred, the integration of the edits. [colour=9e0b0f][i]Maybe I will know it too.[/i][/colour]

[colour=9e0b0f]"You've carried my trust well, so I will do the same for yours. Rest easy, and go, Teknall, to your students... The children of this world. Teach them well."[/colour]

Forcing some rigidity back into the vehicle, which had sagged a little in her fatigue, Jvan let her tool-body drift easily over the faintly scintillating stone body of the clone. Much had been learned tonight, and not only by the Urtelem. [colour=9e0b0f][i]There is another herd, far downriver. I might reach them by the morning light.[/i][/colour]

With that, she departed from the valley. Far away, the true-body began to simmer with new ideas, fresh energy, reserved for mortals. Soon Jvan was no longer tired.

[hider=A tale of two Engineers]
-Teknall discovers the Chippers, and secretly instructs them to flee their persecution
-Teknall broods over a strange, mysterious energy surge (Lif's birth and the following battle, but he doesn't know that)
-Teknall deflects the miasma of Jvanic virus from his current village, but worries about the rest of the world
-Amber seeks out Teknall, who meets her out in the open.
-Through Amber, Jvan requests that Teknall teach the Urtelem to speak through gestures, so that they may communicate with the Sculptors and mutually benefit.
-Teknall interrogates Jvan about the nature of the virus, and is content when he learns it. Jvan silently considers Teknall's protectiveness of the Hain as odd.
-Teknall meets Heartworm by a herd of Urtelem, who have an Urtelem-Sculptor among them.
-Teknall sculpts an Urtelem's mind, connecting communication to motion, granting it the ability of body-language. (-1 FP)
-Jvan performs a similar change manually by dissassembling and reassembling the Urtelem, bolstering its ability to measure and balance. (-1 MP)
-Heartworm takes the modified Urtelem and creates a copy, to be used as a template to spread to the rest of the Urtelem.
-A primitive conversation is seen between the Sculptor and the elder Urtelem.

Teknall: 19.5 MP and 1 FP remaining
Jvan: 13 MP and 1 FP remaining, 2/3 Might spent to unlocking Beauty (Mathematics)
[/hider]