To live and die in twilight

[Tyan Masines]

He got reminded of the cheese while he was blowing gemdust off his sleeves. He had forgotten the tucked away things over the mundane – buying potions, grinding gems, making conversation. Yet he knew the things tucked away were often the most important ones to one personally. It was the moment of that realization when he pulled a ripe piece of cheese, wrapped in light cloth, from his bag. The smell was substantial, but not intrusive. It was ubiquitous, yet distant and not at all pungent. It was like something you'd resent at first, but later miss once it was gone - and when hungry.

It was like a bittersweet memory. That kind of memory you get when every day, the future seems to look a little bit darker, but the past, even the grimy parts of it, keep on getting brighter. However, it was still only a piece of cheese. But Tyan had a plan for it.


He geared up in the gatehouse. Better to not attract any attention, and while armor protected well against blades and arrows, it rarely shielded one against leery glances. He pondered over the choice of shirt and remembered recent conversations about the choice of one's cape hue. They were right, though. Clothes maketh man. Think of it what You will.
Present to me a color which has not yet been chosen for some cause and I shall wear it, he thought to himself, and decided for a traupe shirt to blend in. It may have been the chosen color of the Order of the Weird Space Triangle, but what of it. It would serve him well where he was going.

He was armed with a dagger, a few coins, a teleportation scroll and a piece of cheese wrapped into a colorful scrap of cloth when he arrived at the fields of Galmair. It was tranquil out here, the trees and hedges were not exceptionall well polled, the mossy battlements and dirty streets did not look fabulous by royal standarts, but certainly pragmatic. Tyan passed the alchemy workshop and head straight down into Galmair's undercity. The way there was riddled with drunks and misfits, sometimes drunk misfits, plage struck dwarves and humans and other souls trying to find their way back into the light but just not having what it took. He ventured deeper, knowing that he could and had before. Knowing that once one stared into the abyss long enough, the abyss would stare back in Him, in Anyone, he knew that taking a peek was necessary from time to time as to remember it was still there, looming, waiting, ever more patient than any mortal being. And while forgetting certain things seemed like an easy task for most people, forgiveness was not. Erosive and dangerous, this circumstance was favourably utilized by the abyss. This darkness, spawning malevolence and hatred in the hearts of men over and over again, forbidding them to exceed themselves once and for all.
It's harbinger was contempt. It's incitement was vanity. It's fatal endgame was war. Bjolmur. Dragorog. Cherass. And during all the madness, an old friend had always nagged him about the absence of cheese. We have everything in this land, but not cheese. I'd give a kingdom for some cheese.


He had reached the unfathomable depths of Galmair's undercity, a place others had found as well by now as the gamblers, smugglers and weirdos dwelling here reminded him. He passed them as one of them and in a dark corner pulled an old shelve aside, revealing a small room full of alchemical tools overgrown with spiderwebs. He squeezed himself into the niche and found a moment of tranquility amongst a crowded place we all know and long to find again some time. It may have been the memory of the Old Lady from the Shrine of Oldra, who passed away in a way so profoundly peaceful it almost hurt, still present in his memory, or the awry situation itself that made him feel close to the dwarf, his old friend, once again.
Whatever it was, he found the ancient, scorched cauldron and placed the piece of cheese in it. He topped it with the colorful hat he had the cheese wrapped in on top of it. Tyan had stocked up on those specific hats years ago, as his friend used to burn them off during his experiments. 'Ufedhin, I hear you managed to live long enough to experience the cooks of the land actually making cheese', Tyan says, and murmurs on: 'Which completely ruins my act. You know how I adore theatrics.' Knowing there wont be any response, he turns away from his installation and grabs the shelve to block the entrance once more. He turns up his mouth as he turns his gaze away from the alchemical study and towards the misfits playing dice and cards. Sometimes, it was necessary to dismiss of memories, of griavances, of injustices and even the hardest task of all, exceeding all others, may be in order: To simply say Goodbye.

And he pulled a silver coin from his pocket.

'Anyone up for a game?'