People seemed to be enjoying the results of his little project so far - or in at least one case, the project itself. When the drow woman appeared suddenly pained, Ash winced a little in sympathy, but he was at least glad she seemed to have matters under control. He nodded to her question.
"I still intend to do some more work on it, especially to ensure the risks when others attempt to use it are minimal, but I do intend to sell instructions for replication once I am satisfied. I do enjoy these little projects that I can safely share openly, but trying to continue building these myself would draw far to much time away from more important work."
The questions from the pale man, however, caused Asher to pause. Both of his hands vanished into pockets in his attire, along with the strange pen, and he pulled out a notebook and what looked like a very sad quill that had had its fibers worn away through excessive usage. He scrawled something brief into the notebook, though if anyone managed to get a look at its pages, they might notice that the "writing" in it appeared the vary from nonsense to utterly illegible, assuming they could even make out any familiar letters.
"Magic indeed, sir," Ash confirmed as he scribbled his little note, "but thank you for pointing that out. Presently it is running off a kelerdin crystal, and I am afraid I have become so used to the things that it slipped my mind how difficult it is for most people to obtain any. Nor, obviously, would I recommend the average layman try to handle them personally. I will definitely need to consider alternatives...."
He snapped the notebook shut with a smile. It appeared another had come over for a treat, and he started moving to put the stationary away, but paused once again. His smile remained in place, but there was a blankness in his eyes as he blinked at the woman. The notebook popped back open and the quill was poised to write again.
"I'm sorry, miss, could you repeat that? The ice of a what?"
"I still intend to do some more work on it, especially to ensure the risks when others attempt to use it are minimal, but I do intend to sell instructions for replication once I am satisfied. I do enjoy these little projects that I can safely share openly, but trying to continue building these myself would draw far to much time away from more important work."
The questions from the pale man, however, caused Asher to pause. Both of his hands vanished into pockets in his attire, along with the strange pen, and he pulled out a notebook and what looked like a very sad quill that had had its fibers worn away through excessive usage. He scrawled something brief into the notebook, though if anyone managed to get a look at its pages, they might notice that the "writing" in it appeared the vary from nonsense to utterly illegible, assuming they could even make out any familiar letters.
"Magic indeed, sir," Ash confirmed as he scribbled his little note, "but thank you for pointing that out. Presently it is running off a kelerdin crystal, and I am afraid I have become so used to the things that it slipped my mind how difficult it is for most people to obtain any. Nor, obviously, would I recommend the average layman try to handle them personally. I will definitely need to consider alternatives...."
He snapped the notebook shut with a smile. It appeared another had come over for a treat, and he started moving to put the stationary away, but paused once again. His smile remained in place, but there was a blankness in his eyes as he blinked at the woman. The notebook popped back open and the quill was poised to write again.
"I'm sorry, miss, could you repeat that? The ice of a what?"
Berhame let herself guide by the crowd, the pale visage of that scientist wasn’t devoted to her, rather to that strange machine. A ice maker with magical abilities, driven by a, for her, completely unknown power source. But who is she to know about magic, she barely knew and totally accepted persons like this Mak, fire-genasi, to be ‘magical’ creatures. So the wisdom of such super-natural use of Magic, that is not Berhame, she who’s rather a down to earth and known physics person. She would rather need real explanation than just “it’s magic”.
Well the scent of those sizzling sausages was way more interesting for this starving woman and Berhame turned towards Mak.
No-one of the crowd around was interesting enough for Kara, this one kept silent, for the relief of Berhame. For her it was one of these relaxed evenings where no ‘sixth sense’ pointed out a possible mediation, her gut feel hushed. The scientist, well was a scientist, the drow just neutrally good, the young magician without a dark side, the women of the crowd seemingly without evil thoughts, Kara just muted. For Berhame her gut feeling were off duty.
The starving Berhame turned towards the fire Genasi, "Hi there, Mak, isn’t it? What good sausage do you have on the menu? Saying that I’d like something spicy, in a bun and napped with the adequate condiment, what’s your offer?” Berhame grins brightly, imagining that dripping rather spicy bratwurst soiling the inner of a crispy bread roll with frying fat and covered in some unhealthy mustard based sauce, mmmmh, del-ii-cious...
Bergman even tends, after that, no wait, after another meaty dish, for such, how is it called, slushie or crushed ice. The sweet acid taste of green apple with maraschino cherries refreshed her mind instantly.
... a feast...
Well the scent of those sizzling sausages was way more interesting for this starving woman and Berhame turned towards Mak.
No-one of the crowd around was interesting enough for Kara, this one kept silent, for the relief of Berhame. For her it was one of these relaxed evenings where no ‘sixth sense’ pointed out a possible mediation, her gut feel hushed. The scientist, well was a scientist, the drow just neutrally good, the young magician without a dark side, the women of the crowd seemingly without evil thoughts, Kara just muted. For Berhame her gut feeling were off duty.
The starving Berhame turned towards the fire Genasi, "Hi there, Mak, isn’t it? What good sausage do you have on the menu? Saying that I’d like something spicy, in a bun and napped with the adequate condiment, what’s your offer?” Berhame grins brightly, imagining that dripping rather spicy bratwurst soiling the inner of a crispy bread roll with frying fat and covered in some unhealthy mustard based sauce, mmmmh, del-ii-cious...
Bergman even tends, after that, no wait, after another meaty dish, for such, how is it called, slushie or crushed ice. The sweet acid taste of green apple with maraschino cherries refreshed her mind instantly.
... a feast...
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