Doctor Calgori
Minister of Science, Shhh.....
[insert character symbol here]
KALEIDO OF THE GLASSIES
Name: Kaleido
Archetype - Errant Glassmaker
Homeland - The Glassy Coast
Motivation - Acceptance
Gear - Wanderer's glassmaking kit
History - Rejected by her home village and every subsequent Glassy town, Kaleido has been cursed to a life of wandering, forced from the safety of quiet Glassy life into the chaotic rush of a greater existence. As a Glassy, naturally see-through people, she is further ostracized by her own nature: glossed over by friend and foe alike, who simply find better things to do. Forsaken by her people, the only ones who would give her any particular thought, she seeks only to rejoin them in their villages, by whatever means necessary. Due to the stubborn nature of her people, this will require a grand feat indeed.
Failing - Bitter
Integrity - Mostly Sane
Further relevant information in appropriately titled tabs
It is rare that a Glassy should be talked about outside of the coastal wastes, and even then, they are only brought up in passing. Even the most learned of scholars or most involved of community leaders have better things to think about. Such as dirty socks. Or their favorite method of contracting food poisoning. Not to say that the Glassies are so unpleasant – no, they are just so hard to bring to mind. Some say it is because they are so short and quiet. Many believe it is a side effect of their (supposedly) magical connection to glass. Others go so far as to say that it is not blood, but glass that flows through their veins, and that they are literally transparent. Whatever the cause, the effects are all the same.
Nobody is quite too sure where the Glassies came from; the race only recently began to
associate itself with the rest of the known world. However, those few that have bothered to investigate have traced their oldest settlements to the coastal regions, in the bleak, ever-foggy crags of the north shores. There they form their villages, within the coastal valleys and on the hills. Glassy houses are small, practical things, with much of the walls and ceilings being made of glass (Although they do use wood for their walkways and such), and are centered around the communal lifestyle that Glassies adopt. They keep themselves well fed off of the sea, fishing the wild oceans for whatever they can catch, and constructing farms to grow sea-weeds and shellfish. On land, too, they grow their fruits and vegetables, as well as spices, of which they make great use. Though the Glassies are simple, they are practical, and their villages contain countless workshops and smithies to counter the rough sea life. Present, too, are a number of large eateries and drinking-houses, kept well occupied on stormy nights
(which are frequent).
The race is smaller than most of the world, standing at an average of five feet or so, for men and
women, with very little deviation. Their legs are small; however, their arms are long for their frame, with even longer, lithe fingers attached to otherwise small palms. The race is known, and named, however, for their peculiar eyes, which appear as if they are made of glass – possessing an odd brightness and shine unlike any other sort of eye, not to mention amazingly detailed and intricately colored irises.
The name also stems from the unchallenged mastery of Glassy glassblowing. From an early
age, Glassies are trained hard and fast in their craft, and even at that young age, Glassy glass is the finest. The race has an affinity for glass, powered by natural magical tendencies; their glass, by extension, tends to be of higher quality than any other glass, and comes with some interesting side effects. Glassies can seal away almost anything in glass for later retrieval, including living creatures and burning flames. They can create glass amplifiers that resonate with sealed music, create glass bulbs with the light of the sun hidden inside, and craft glass vials which hold more of their glassed wine then a vessel of their size should carry. Even their conventional window glass, or the glass they used to create their dining ware, has strange properties, from an odd regenerative ability, to keeping food hot and tasty for days on end. Glassies at work is perhaps even more mystical then the strange properties of their glass – their workshops are full of intricate metal tools, strange sing-song invocations, and Glassies demonstrating the depth of their connection with glass: passing bare hands over molten glass with hardly a flinch as they carefully coax strange shapes and beautiful objects from its glowing red surface.
Almost as remarkable as their glass is a Glassy's skill at sea. Their long days on the coast, full of
fishing and combing the sands for interesting things to put in their glass, has given the Glassies an innate sense for the sea and its workings. Glassies are well versed in swimming, spending sunny days and stormy nights alike in the coastal pools and inland channels they carve for themselves. When they do have to go out on the wild waves (most often for fishing), they take to their beautiful glass boats, surprisingly strong constructs well suited for the stormy weather of Glassy coasts. Glassies also have an uncommon knack for guessing when storms are about to erupt, and seasoned sailors are able to guess weather patterns into a full three days – beyond that, however, the sheer chaotic nature of the coast undermines even the Glassies' skill.
It is said that Glassies themselves are much like glass: transparent, with nothing to block the
view through them. To the rest of the world, this is very true: Glassies are shy, cautious people, taking years to build up enough trust for simple trading and business relationships. To ask for more than a bashful exchange of goods is to ask the impossible: Glassies have little to give past their usual wares, finding the wide world far too busy. Instead, they retreat to their secretive villages, content with blowing glass, catching fish, and weathering storms.
Weathering storms is something that Glassies do quite well: despite their quiet demeanor, they
can be unnaturally loud little folk when the tide is right, instruments are strung, and a little glassed wine has been passed around. Glassies are exceptional musicians, playing a wide variety of glassy instruments, and singing long epic tales of the world beyond their doors. For all the cruelties of the lands beyond, it provides endless fascination for them, and they take to its tales with an unhealthy fascination. It has been hypothesized by those who knew a Glassy or two, that they make up for their own insecurities and fears by inserting themselves into their own fantastical tales: indeed, Glassies as a whole are an absentminded people, who put far more thought into their glass creations then they do their own dinners. Be so lucky as to eat with a Glassy, and mind you make well sure your fish has actually been cooked! (Glassies themselves have tough stomachs: They wouldn’t shy away from just eating the fish, forget the stove!)
Recently, the Glassies have been making forays into the greater wilds of the land, and this
process has been slow. Their shy nature sends them swishing back to their shelters at a moment's notice, and their peaceful nature makes them at ill with a chaotic world. However, their unique skill set (beautiful, functional glass and skillful work at sea) grants them a chance to fit in with the rest of the world, taking up odd jobs from the corners and under the edges of society.
The Glassy Coast, so named because it is A: Crawling with Glassies, and B) full of their glass and glassmaking sand, is at the same time one of the more miserable and one of the more serene parts of the world. Though none but the Glassies make it their home, and few have heard their whispered talk of their life within it, tales abound of the terrible beauty of the locale. Located in the highest north, the coast stretches for many miles, twisting into countless rough bays and uncharted grottoes, before dwindling off into sheer cliff and brutal mountain, marking the end of the coast. The sea surrounding the coast is rough at best, with storms occurring at least once a week, and the time in between, marked with heavy winds and cloudy skies; storms are truly terrible in their coming, battering rock and tree alike with gusting wind and icy sleets of rain. The land itself is a mixture of rocky crags and long sandbar mazes; only occasionally does a sheltered bay peek out from amongst the ship-killing shores. What vegetation lives out on the beach is thick, matted stuff, clinging to the sand and rocks with a vicious grasp. Only rarely does the sun shin in full force: more often that not, it is clouded with a future storm, or a thick fog which never seems to lift.
The Glassies, however, know many ways to extract meaning from the bleak shores: using the tough plants to make rope and the rocky outcroppings to carve furnace bricks. What safe bays they find are turned into full harbors (often, a town can be found not a stone's throw from such harbors as well), complete with multiple docks for a fleet of boats – villages that are not able to build their own harbor arrange sharing agreements on a communal harbor. In the rock walls and sandy shores surrounding the docks, they cut long canals, channeling sea-water into elaborate pools and stepping-stone ponds, often with windmill-powered pumps to keep fresh water flowing. Here the Glassies grow sea-weed, one of their primary staples, and countless varieties of shell-fish as well. The pools also serve as workshops for aquatic glass, one of the many different types blown by the Glassies, and as storage tanks for food, not to mention entertainment for young and old Glassies alike – they are particularly good at swimming, able to stay afloat for hours, despite what their small size would suggest.
Deeper inland are the larger villages. These are built on the hills and in the valleys, where the distance and the heights offer some protection from the brutal storms common to those areas. Here life is abundant, fed by the many streams and plenty rains, as well as a thick helping of rich soil. The land is primarily covered in a thick carpet of soft grass, broken here and there with dense clumps of willow trees, and occasionally, a glasswood tree: towering old growths useful in all sorts of glass making ways. Kept balanced by the careful management of the well-minded Glassies, the coastal meadows create a wondrously peaceful atmosphere, a far fling from the bleak cities of man farther south. Here and there, however, are great forests of glasswood, and something known to the Glassies as ruperthorn: a great, tall tree with sinister branches and thick foliage, which chokes out all light and casts a deep shadow on the ground. Glassies only travel the forests in number, and even then, only with very, very good reason.
The Glassies are certainly not alone on the coast, and can look to land, air and water for creatures to hunt, be it for food or protection. The creatures of the land are all in all, benign, being mostly small rodents and a few weasels. Larger four-tailed deer travel in herds of up to fifty, browsing the willow forests, and often, ending up on Glassy jackets and in Glassy gloves. Typically, the most dangerous thing a Glassy has to worry about are the sand cats, fairly large felines which will put up a fight if cornered. Glassies can, with some struggle, put these beasts to rest, but occasionally a Glassie or two will be taken in foolish fights with the creatures. What is to be feared, however, is what lurks within the ruperthorn woods. Vicious stalkers and crafty trappers wander its dark depths, snapping up anything tasty, no matter how large it might be. Perhaps the only thing safe from the grips of these beasts are the peaceful harvestmen: large spider-like herbivores, prized by Glassies as being a good source of fine silk for weaving warm clothes.
The air hosts little, being subject to violent winds and frequent storms: it is rare to see anything flying about, and if so, it is low to the ground and ready to drop at a moment's notice. Most common are sand-pipers, little birds which spend most of their time on the beach, picking at sand crabs. Smaller sparrows and finch can be found in the willow groves, chirping noisily and picking at seeds. Sea-gulls tend to congregate near villages, feeding from fish markets and picking at compost piles. Occasionally, a larger sea-hawk will appear: opportunistic hunters which take advantage of gusting winds to snag gulls and pipers alike. These birds were domesticated long ago by the Glassies, who now use them as hunting aids, and to keep the gulls away from the fish markets.
The sea, however, is the greatest pool of life on the Glassy coast. Countless varieties of fish, shellfish, crustacean, and mammal alike all make their home in the rocky coasts, sheltering storms within the carved bays, before heading back to the wide ocean to find food. Almost every little living thing in the sea can be put to some use or another by the industrious Glassies, who find ways to either eat, make glass with, or play music on, everything from fish skeletons to oyster shells. They must be wary, however, of the things which stalk the depths beyond their sheltered bays – be it thick colonies of beautiful, yet deadly-stinging jellyfish, to vicious eels which will throw themselves onto boats if enraged, to mighty, eight-finned sharks which break smaller boats with their terrible teeth.
The Dream only brings bad tidings. The already miserable weather grows colder yet, and the thick air fills with a dark, ill fog. When a storm blows across the waves, the Dream fills the wind with the chilling whispers of the deep, and the rain with icy blades of heart-numbing cold. The more innocent creatures flee to their nests, and replacing them are the terrors of the Dream: the beasts from the ruperthorn woods grow bold, stalking the meadows with long, bone-chilling howls; the things from the sea drag themselves up from their evil lairs to slither the sand-bars and scour the crags for victims. The Glassies, however, fight back from their villages and their harbors: creating great balls of glow-glass to mount on their walls and ward off the creatures of the Dream. Watchmen prowl the streets and the walls, searching for signs of any Dream leaking through into the pleasant Glassy streets. Even the common folk have their ways of doing battle, gathering in taverns and eating-halls to drive back the gloom with glass wine and rousing choruses of great deeds and marvelous heroes. Certain brave craftsmen have been known to lock themselves up outside of town in hidden workshops, using the weird of the dream to create wondrous works of glass, which are fantastical even beyond Glassy standards. Occasionally, the Glassies will band together their best, and form hunting parties, which they send during the day to kill off as many of the dream-lurks as they can, that there might be fewer to deal with when the fog again descends, making swords heavy and glass quarrels fall short of their mark.
Traveling to the Glassy coast is a complicated manner. There is little there to interest the common man; the rare resources of the ruperthorn forests and the dangerous waves are best worked by Glassies. Merchants who seek to trade in the precious goods the coast has to offer need simply to strike an agreement with the Glassies, who, owing to their timid nature, will generally accept most agreements, and will certainly accept if offered interesting things to put in their glass. The Glassies themselves, while not overly antagonistic, do not trust outsiders, and so visiting the coast is a lonely affair, as far as the locals are concerned. This, plus the dangerous environment that is the coast at Dream, not to mention at storm, and worst of all at Dream-storm, makes a trip to visit the Glassies a very rare thing indeed. Very few have had the pleasure of calling around the Glassies' doors, and fewer still have called it a pleasure at all.
Added after this sheet was accepted, so take the following contents both strictly as flavouring, and with a grain of salt.
Glassy glass comes in hundreds, if not thousands of varieties, each with their own unique properties. A common similarity, however, is a remarkable beauty, with even such items as fishing floats or nails being ornate works of art. The magical properties of Glassy glass not only lends itself to the material's amazing beauty, but also to a wide variety of effects and byproducts. By exploiting the various effects of such glass, the Glassies have been able to at least keep up with the rest of the world, without need for steam or smoke to power their constructions. Good for them, as most Glassies are allergic to the smoke created by the machines of man, and at any rate couldn't bother to understand how they work anyways.
Some of the different types that have been seen in use by the Glassies include:
Glowglass: A common glass in Glassy homes, this glass is made by the light of the sun and tempered in a fire lit with the sun's rays. When left outside in the sun for the day, glowglass takes on a little bit of the sun's glow, bringing the light of day into the bleak of night. Glowglass shines brightest after a cloudless day; overcast skies tend to dim the rays it emits, and a stormy day almost completely dims its light. A subset is fireglass, a similar glass which charges with and emits the bright dancing light of a fire.
Stormstreak Glass: An incredibly tough form of glass, harder than stone. It must be created during a raging storm, and only achieves its proper durability when struck by lightning. This is where the glass gets its characteristic milky-white streaks, said to be the channels of lightning's power trapped within the glass, giving it its strength and stubborn resistance to shattering. It is used where strength matters, such as in the hulls of ships, and the heads of tools. Paradoxically, Stormstreak glass shatters far more destructively than other forms of glass, throwing glass shards in a violent explosion of angry lightning-force. This is often used by the Glassies as a way to kick start explosive charges during cliff excavation and what little mining they do. It is also used in glasscasters: firearm like devices which use the explosion of a small charge of stormstreak glass to propel a shell much like any other gun would. The general idea of a glasscaster was stolen from the humans of the south, and adapted to suit Glassy fashion: they do not work quite as well as their smoky cousins, but firing a glasscaster is akin to an orchestral flourish and a fireworks show all in one.
Whillowhisp: A light, airy material formed from tiny strands of glass, woven together to make a fine stiff cloth. Made during a storm, and cooled by nothing but the raging wind, whillowhisp weights hardly more than a feather, yet is as strong as glass. It is sometimes used for clothes, but mostly, forms a component of sails and kites. A few brave Glassies have made wings out of the material, using gusts of wind to fly about the cliffs, but this is usually reserved for the reckless youth to try.
Blackbite: Glassies are particularly careful about making blackbite, as done wrong, the consequences can be rather unpleasant. Quenched in the blood of the hunted, and cast from glass chunks separated by acts of considerable violence, blackbite has a peculiar soul of vicious efficiency which makes it suited for tipping crossbow quarrels, glasscaster shells, and creating traditional Glassy swords. Cast properly, blackbite has an unnatural tendency to shred flesh and seek out heartbeats, making deadly sharp weapons and unnervingly accurate projectiles. The process is difficult, however, and takes a high degree of anger to be made right: most blackbite is created mildly annoyed, or perhaps somewhat irate, and thus is only at a fraction of blackbite's true potential. When made in full, rightous fury, a blackbite weapon is something truly to behold. Of course, it takes a master glassworker to construct such a device, and the Glassies hesitate to attempt anything of that nature: when made wrong, blackbite has a tendency to corrupt, causing deep serrations instead of clean cuts, or inflicting more damage upon its wielder than the actual target. The glass itself is a deep, dark obsidian black, with deep red carvings marked in the sides.
Soulshard: The most potent form of glass the Glassies make. Formed only during a solar eclipse (the union of day and Dream) in a great ceremony of somber celebration, soulshard is the end result of the Glassies' rite of passing on. Fallen Glassies are cremated, and their ashes collected, stored until the Day of Dreaming, and then, used to create a small glass work, which is believed by the Glassies to carry the soul of the deceased Glassy into the next world. Some essence of the Glassy, however, is believed to linger on in the work, and, in accordance with the final wishes of the Glassy, the soulshards are taken to wherever their respective individual wished to rest, be it the sea, the center of town, their favorite rocky out cropping, or even (with some adventurous individuals) out in the wide world – in the trading towns far to the south, or the industrial smoke-cities of man's great creation. Soulshard itself is unimaginably tough, having resisted everything from brutal powered hammer impacts to being cast into molten metal and left to melt. It often carries strange properties as well, said to resemble that of the Glassy it is made from – the soulshard of a bright and cheerful Glassy casts a warm and inviting light which pierces all darkness, and the soulshard of a tempered sea captain keeps its wearer afloat no matter how terrible a storm.
Soulshard's unbreakable nature and its strange property would make it an extremely useful resource – however, owing to its construction and nature, it is never seen in practical use. The Glassies consider the making of soulshard to be one of the greatest honors in life; to be able to give tribute to fallen Glassies, particularly great captains or craftsmen, is something few get to experience, and the experience, is life changing. The abuse of such a sacred material, then, would be mind-numbing: enough to move the shy Glassies to active action (i.e. a protracted campaign of bloody murder) against an individual. Soulshard only leaves workshops to be placed where it wants to rest – and from there, it is never moved again, by human hand or natural force. The few instances of soulshard seen in the wild are simply in the process of being brought to their intended resting place, and the Glassy who bears the soulshard, cannot even imagine taking advantage of the glass for his or her own personal gain. Even if one were to secure the shard, the offense against the sacred nature of its construction would shatter the work, and mark the offender as taboo to the Glassies for a very, very long time
Dreamcast: Dreamcast is a blanket term for any glass blown and cast during the Dream. The unpredictable nature of the effect on glass during this time makes dreamcast a rarity, not to mention that, as a whole, the Glassies tend to see the dream as a wholly unsuitable time for experiment. It is much too difficult, after all, to focus on glassblowing when a dreamterror is banging on the door. Dreamcast is reserved for master Glassies who have become part and whole with glass, and who seek to unlock the mysteries of the Dream for their fellow Glassies' profit. Dreamcast can either be made completely anew during Dream times, or it can be constructed around a Dream artifact. The term refers to both types, as neither are very commonly seen by Glassies: most of their Dreamcast is blown for foreign wizards and tradesmen.
Glassed Wine: Glassed wine is not quite glass, but a Glassy specialty made and consumed regularly by Glassies of all age. Different villages produce different varieties based on what is nearby, and even within towns, there is a wide range of wines to choose from. It is brewed with anything from stained roses to seaweed to animal blood (In certain villages). Common to each batch is the process used to turn it from wine to glassed wine. With a combination of raging heat and careful mixing, the wine is seared, combining the flavors and creating a thin skin around the outside of the wine. For this reason, the wine is most often made in tiny, cup-sized batches, which when seared form serving-sized balls of liquid. Glassies have many clever ways of consuming the fragile spheres, ranging from simply piercing the skin and drinking the wine with a straw, to feeding them into complicated wine glasses which cut holes in the skin at specific spots, turning the sphere into an ornate fountain. Glassy drinking games, by extension, can get quite involved.
