[Stephen_Zuckerman]

The Four Stars Tavern.

Music rises from the slowly prospering tavern late into the Freas evening, business near its peak for the night. The staff are all at work, serving drinks and food, carrying away used plates and bottles, all like honeybees, flitting from patron-flower to patron-flower. The songs are fair, played by a young bardlet whose fine violin was on indefinite loan from the House. A few bottles rest beside him, half-gone, but with plenty of courage left within to get his fingers moving... Albeit a bit less steadily. A bent old elf, circled by children, tells a tale of his younger years, this time in hunt for a legendary golden-pelted bear which roamed Alindor's forests. A young, pretty elf lad serves drinks with the joy and flair of innocent exuberance, while...

While upstairs, a lined face looks out from a window, sapphire-hued eyes scanning the dark skies. Sixty years, these eyes have watched the world turn, from first opening upon the dying form of their source, through darkness and across great distances... To now, silently watching the city they call home.

"Worth comes from things that grow from within..."

The whispered words, drifting on the warm, Jular air, bring with them the faintest of pulsing glows. Below, hanging from a bone-beaded cord between a diamond cat's eye amulet, and an emerald clover, shines a small, simple conch shell, the softest of glows rising and falling with the steady beat of the old man's heart.

"Find your worth first, before finding that in things external."

A smile curves the man's lips as he recalls the first few years of his life. So driven, so focused on achievement, so mindful of material gain and 'useful' skill. Trying desperately to compensate for his perceived worthlessness. It had taken a king's guidance to set him aright. This little gift of a shell...

"Then you will truly learn to love what surrounds you. Take it from me... I know."

His youth, he spent chasing dreams. In adulthood, he found them. Old promises kept, old ghosts laid to rest, and a paradigm met. Confidence found, ego left behind. Finally, at least a small measure of good sense had found its way into the man's head. But with dreams for himself fulfilled, a blade made living part of the man... As his own tale found a conclusion, if not an end, the tales of others shone bright in his heart.

"And now I'm back to chasing dreams."

Only... Now the dreams are not his own. So many live in a world just emerging from darkness. Few live whose parents, at least, were not prisoners of the shroud which enclosed the world of Layonara. So many have hopes which may never be met. And yet some are lucky enough to have garnered great fortunes in life. Many of these hide away, hoarding their wealth in their own little worlds... But a few look around, and see how their long efforts could aid more than themselves.

A fine violin of elvish make, taken back from thieving giants, aiding a bardlet's music.

Books and scrolls from the world over, put in the hands of the young and learning.

Tales, songs, and the financial clout to support an inn and multiple young, talented artisans.

Mayhap the eyes which scan the stars will see a tomb before long, but the life they have been given... The life of Pyyran Rahth will never be for naught.

Not now, he hopes.