A networking opportunity among the wisest and most competent in the world of Tollaria. The Antiquarians, assuming they live up to the hype which Skan has afforded them, seem to be my best bet in bridging the civilization of my own world with this one, and introducing new systems to them. Supposedly, they even have engines or other machines, though Lucan seemed to be just as primitive in dress as the rest of the villagers at Rosehill, save for his clothes being whiter.

Upon returning to the Gubweh tribe, I joined Skan, Lyrie, Crutch, the Gubweh, Flit and Flott, and many other goblins for a massive communal meal, made up of Citrusfruit, fresh bread, rabbit haunch, goat ribs, and a dessert of Roasted Yummynut Paste. The value of the Yummynut has slowly begun to normalize within a market economy, and with the introduction of the vouchers, the papers have begun to be more common in trades than the nuts themselves. The goblins will surely be receptive to minted coins, once I begin that process.

“Cheers!” I look around for a glass of an alcoholic beverage, to celebrate beating back the Drapery Wizard, who retreated as a beaten dog might. Yet, the goblins do not consume any, it seems. “Skan, do your people have wine?”

“What’s wine?”

“So, no. Got it. Wine is a juice made from grapes that makes people happy, dance, sing.”

“We have grape juice, and I know some people who have gotten so happy drinking it that they break out into song and dance.”

“No, not like that. In a drunken stupor. It’s something that humans do in my world to escape some difficult realities.” I smile slightly. I miss the taste of wine on my lips. A premier bottle, imported from the south of France, or somewhere in Italy. Paired with a delicious steak. The food the goblins make, it’s tasty, and has a broad range, but it gets boring after a while. It seems devoid of the lavish pleasures of my own world, and the spices are bland, to put it lightly.

“Ah, we’ve never had a need for that, though I can see the appeal.” Skan says, quietly. None of the goblins perished in our battle against Drapery Wizard, thankfully. A few were injured, but most of us remain unscathed. However, I’ve had a lot to think about since that initial encounter. The biggest event, of course, being the invitation by Lucan to meet with the Antiquarians. After the feast, I would be setting out once again for Rosehill, and then further north, to the Antiquarian’s Hall, which is a lone structure built atop a plateau in the region which the Gubweh refer to as “Quiet River,” where two streams converge and form a calm river that flows through the area. The Antiquarian’s Hall is built directly above it, and the river flows through the base of the structure itself, from what I’ve heard.

After the meal is finished, I retreat to my tent once again. Lyrie and Crutch sit inside, enjoying a cup of rose tea among themselves. The two have grown accustomed to luxuries, now, being two of the higher paid members of the Gubweh, given their roles. Skan enters behind me, and the four of us are inside. “So, my friends, have we procured a suit? I need to make a good first impression among these fellows if I hope to have their investment and assistance in the region.”

“Indeed. Here it is.” Lyrie stands up and opens up a large wooden box, sat vertically, where a suit hangs from within. It’s a pale grey, not unlike my current suit, but is less damaged and bloodied. “Made of pure Spidersilk. I had Wavik, one of the tenders, help with it.” Wavik is one of the goblin weavers who works with the spiders in a cave not far from the camp. While the fabric typically goes to building tents and bandages, as well as the plain rags, the goblin weavers have a surprising level of talent when it comes to their trade, and were compensated with a fair amount of Yummynut vouchers. I put the suit on for a moment, and it’s a near perfect fit.

“Great, thank you.” The bed before me looks inviting after such a long feast, for what might be the first time since I’ve entered this world. Slowly, the goblins grow more civilized and capable, and their society rapidly advances and grows stronger. I need to find out how to deal with the other four supposed interlopers, though, before I grow too comfortable. Night falls and I drift off to sleep.

As the morning sun filters in through the flaps in the tent, I wake up, warm. It’s time to make my way north to Rosehill. Only Lyrie and Crutch will be accompanying me, as I’ve left Skan to manage the tribe in my absence. I’m sure he’ll do fine in my stead, though certainly not as good as myself.

The three of us reach the path north, treaded dirt and packed soil making a firm and easy route to follow. Lyrie and Crutch both have a blade at their side. Ever since the other four “travelers” have been made aware of my presence, we’ve felt more at risk traveling unarmed in this peaceful world. However, the fear is good for me, as these people have no idea how to navigate such a treacherous world, while I myself do. The corporate world is much like the Tollarian countryside in some ways, with bandits rising up under the banners of rival companies trying to take advantage of this land, not realizing that I’ve already claimed it myself. The resources are rich, and the goblins need a guiding hand to truly harness the power available in their world. Without me, they’d be doomed to the rulership by Drapery Wizard, or perhaps the Purple Armored Man.

I spray myself with some floral incense periodically as the three of us march northbound. The sun has reached the peak of the sky now, and for the first time since my arrival, I take a moment to let the light and natural beauty of the world soak in. I sit down on a log for a single moment. So much beauty and nature surrounding me. Some day, this area will make for a beautiful park. The admission fees would more than make up for the cost of acquiring this land.

Lyrie and Crutch sit next to me for a moment. “You smell nice, Chief Officer.” Crutch speaks quietly. They seem to be soaking in the nature around us as well.

“Thank you.” I respond, quietly myself. A moment of serenity. “Alright, back to the march north.” I stand, and the other two follow my lead. A small trickle of purple barely catches my eye for but a mere second in the brush. I walk over. A new source of Purple Magical Goop has appeared. I reach my hand into the flow once again. The essence absorbs through my skin. Stronger, again. I’m certain, this time. My hand glows with raw power. Shortly thereafter, the well is dried up. Just a small reserve.

Soon enough, we reach Rosehill once again. Villagers run out of their villas, happy to see me in the area. Lucan greets me with a smile on his face. “Shall we head further north, Mark?” he asks.

“Indeed. I am ready to meet with the Antiquarians. I desire knowledge, answers, and wish to help defeat the other travelers.”

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“I’m glad you’ve agreed to meet with us. Allow me to bring you to the Antiquarian’s Hall, then.” Lucan begins leading me up the hill north of town. Lyrie and Crutch remain in Rosehill to help with some lingering repairs from the battle which took place here a few days ago. Thankfully, the property damage wasn’t too bad, and it should incur some goodwill from the people living there if we help them.

Soon, we reach the peak of the hill. In the distance, I see a large stone structure, standing alone, with five pillars surrounding it. “I suppose that’s the Hall?”

“Indeed.” Lucan says, softly. “I must warn you, not every Antiquarian is polite or normal. Many of us are considered the wise masters of this world, and a few among us have our reservations about outsiders.” He pauses. “I am not among those numbers. I wish to bolster our outreach and assist in the development of Tollaria. However, some of the Antiquarians believe that Tollaria is best without our intervention, for we may endanger the world. Perhaps this recent incursion of travelers will change their minds.” We continue walking again.

There is much on my mind as we approach the Hall. It’s a looming structure, which has proven to be quite uncommon thus far in my experiences within Tollaria. In addition, the five pillars surrounding it seem to glow with magical auras of their own. All five pillars, a brilliant orange. And, Lucan had mentioned that some Antiquarians had reservations about involving outsiders in their work. This detail surprised me, as I had begun growing used to a degree of naivete present in this land. However, it’s nothing that can’t be remedied with some usage of my silver tongue.

We reach the doors to the structure, and Lucan reaches out his arm. An orange energy envelops the heavy oaken barrier and pushes them open. In the Hall, 8 more men stand, all wearing similar white robes to Lucan. Nine Antiquarians in total. “Welcome, Mark Whooten, to the Antiquarians’ Hall.” Lucan says to me. I step forward.

“Good evening, fellows.” I say, nodding my head in respect. I’m unsure of the level of decorum such a hall demands. Around me, I observe strange machinery and magical tools. Upright vials filled with swirling chemicals, strange spherical engines, whirring with mystical energy. A bottled mote of energy shakes and rattles against a glass barrier, with a metal lid fastened atop. “My name is Mark Whooten, I am the Chief Officer of the Gubweh.” The Antiquarians look at me. Some, with suspicion. Others, with intrigue. Besides Lucan, one other Antiquarian looks at me with delight. A scaly-skinned, humanoid lizard. A smile shines on her face, revealing uncanny teeth, not unlike those of the Gubweh. However, it’s clear that even she is more sophisticated than the rest of goblins I’ve sortied with. The Antiquarians are indeed a strange sort in this primitive world.

“You’ve entered our Hall, Traveler.” A large man, standing at almost seven feet tall, certainly, with a thick beard and barrel chest, raises a booming voice. “And, upon entering, you have not attacked us or sought to bring us harm. You are the first, and last, among the Five Travelers to not do so. What makes you so special among them?” The man crosses his arms. I notice a massive club hanging at his side now. In fact, all of the Antiquarians seem poised for combat, should it arrive. A few of them have orange energy radiating from their fists or feet.

“I am civilized, and proper. I do not seek to cause damage to this world, or make it worse. I want to make it better, and improve the world. I want to raise the standards here. I want to elevate, and promote greatness among the people. And I want to lead it into greatness. If the other Travelers destroy this world, or take it over, that’s certainly bad for my own wishes to make it better.” I stand proudly, and tall.

“Your aura is otherworldly. Similar to the other Travelers. However, your actions speak louder than your energy, in my eyes.” Now, a grizzled mage speaks up. He has an unshaved face with grey stubble peeking out from his cheeks. The lower half of his face is obscured with a large cloth mask, wrapped into a scarf around his neck. His hair is thin and wispy, but his eyes are sharp like an eagle. “Your magic comes from one of the False Queens. Same as the others. But you use it for good. Strange.”

I hesitate. They seem to believe that my powers came as a part of the wish I was robbed of. I could correct them, but then I stand to reveal the source of my power, and perhaps these technocrats might try to steal it from me. “No. The magic did not come from the False Queen. It comes from this world. I’ve absorbed it, as essence.”

“Peculiar. I was almost certain it was the same. Perhaps it is residual, cast-off magic from the False Queens, as it is certainly not of Tollaria.” The old man coughs, spattering a slight bit of red through his scarf. Blood. Now, it’s clear why he wore it. His days are nearing an end. “Excuse me, I have recently grown ill, after an encounter with another Traveler, where he seemed to place a curse upon me. I believe you have begun referring to him as the Tapestry Wizard, according to Lucan.” The man motions to Lucan, now.

“Ah, yes, though he denied that was his name, it fits. A curse?” I snap back into my train of thought.

“The Tapestry Wizard had… demanded all of our magical essence and power. We could not oblige, as we saw the malicious intent in his actions. So he struck us with horrid magic. Luckily, we beat him back, but Pola has been deathly ill since that encounter.” Lucan speaks up.

“Yes, Lucan. I can speak for myself.” The old man breaks out into a fit of coughs once again. “Indeed, his story is true. And this blight has been effective in hampering my power. However, we hear your wishes to work with us, against the others, and gladly accept.” Pola coughs, a third time, now.

“You don’t need to speak any more, thank you.” I say to the man. I turn to the rest of the Antiquarians. Suspicious eyes, tired eyes. Eyes that, weeks ago, were surely full of life, peace, and happiness, working to improve the world. These are eyes that have experienced great horrors, yet, in my own world, these people would have had idyllic lifestyles if their experiences translated. “I’m ready to begin work. But, in order to help this world, I will need access to the technologies you have here. Otherwise, we might stand no chance against the other four Travelers.” I look around at the Antiquarians. Lizard woman, Pola with the cough, Lucan, Grey Stubble. Huge club, with a big beard. The other four Antiquarians, now. Two women, one with bright blonde hair, the other a dark-skinned elf. Two men, one tan, as though he had been harvesting olives and they spilled onto him in the midst, and one short and lean, with an angular face.

“Certainly.” Big Club speaks up. “The technologies collected here are known as Residuals.” He points to various objects. “They are technology from other planes that still radiate with the essence of those worlds. We expected to match your essence with some of the worlds, but were unable to. Your world, what is it called?”

“I am from Earth.” I respond.

“Earth. Unfamiliar to us. What sort of technology can we first interest you in sharing?” I look around, quickly. I can’t be too greedy, to begin. Suddenly, one object catches my eye. A strange, red-hot spherical gyroscope, rotating on itself. “What is that?” I point to it.

“Ah. An engine, of some sort. While we understand the basic premise of engines, we have yet to find a real purpose for this one, other than generating basic magical essence.” Big Club responds.

I think back to the nearby cliffside, at the Gubweh camp, where gemstones and shining metals jut out. Drills, stone crushers. An engine, a cart. A mineshaft. These things materialize in my mind. Soon, I will be able to mint my coins, and establish a real currency in the Gubweh. And the Gubweh Mines will be my first real enterprise. Taxes, subscriptions, fees. Everything begins to flow, like delicious, glorious water from a shining tap, ice cold. “I’ll take it. I can use it. I am very competent.”