Las Cartas De Rol-Tan - IV: Con El Corazón En La Mano

Empyrea
(Rol-Tan #8)

Querida Madre Natibeth:

Espero que te encuentres bien, porque yo no lo estoy. Recibí tu carta, tus consejos, tus palabras y tuve esperanzas, tuve fé. Hice exactamente lo que me dijiste, al pié de la letra... ¡AHORA TODOS ME ODIAN! Tal y como me dijiste que hiciera, me acerqué a hablar con cada uno, en privado...

Me dijiste que Giancarlo es una persona a la cual las palabras le pasan por encima de la cabeza, así que seguí tu consejo y le dejé las sutilezas a mis acciones y la simpleza a mis palabras. Cuando estuvimos solos, me armé de valor, tomé una silla, me senté frente a el tan seria como pudiera estar con tal de que entendiera de que no estaba jugando. Le dije:

-"¿Vienes aquí a probar suerte conmigo, a probar mi paciencia o a hacer uso del servicio? Porque yo no estoy a la venta..."
-"¿Por que me atacas?"
-"Te doy todo lo que me pides, pero apenas si tocas lo que pides, gastando mas tiempo en burlarte de las desgracias ajenas, robandote sus pedidos, y tomandote confianzas que yo no te he dado. ¿Es esa la manera en que muestras tu interes por alguien?, ¿Es esa la manera en que muestras tu aprecio o afecto por alguien? Por que, ciertamente... no está funcionando."

Como lo esperaba, la primera reacción que tuvo fue la de simplemente irse, así que tuve que pararle y decirle que no se trataba de huir, sino de ser conciente y responsable para con uno mismo. El... solo atinó a responder "soy alguien que hace, no que piensa" como si esa frase le exhonerara de ser responsable de sus actos. Hubo un momento de silencio entonces porque, ante eso, ¿que podía decir? Era ya muy difícil para mi encararle así: aun con sus torpezas, de cuando en cuando, el había tenido gestos para conmigo, aportando esto o aquello para mi... pero lo cierto es que uno no crea un gneumático a partir de parches de gebe. No se puede pretender vivir una vida siendo irresponsable de tus actos o de tus actitudes... por mas buen corazón que tengas. No es una excusa. No es propio de un adulto. Me tomé un aire y le dije:

-"Tu no eres una mala persona, y, a diferencia de mi padre, no guardo resentimiento para contigo... pero esto no puede seguir así. ... Cuando tu decidas que eso cambie, yo estaré allí, como siempre ha sido desde que llegué."

Aun así, lo que ha seguido es el silencio. Lejos de verse incitado a cambiar o a decidirse por algo, por estos dias tan solo le veo derrotado, triste, como si yo fuera la villana aquí, como si fuera mi culpa. Quizas... Hidden-san tiene razón... y la unica forma de ser la maid perfecta es ser alguien absolutamente distante y maquinario... alguien que se limite a seguir las reglas desapacionadamente y sin emociones de por medio. Quisiera... quisiera creer que no es así.

Me dijiste que Soul es una persona que sufre mucho porque todos le pasan por encima, sin mostrarle una pizca de amabilidad, gentileza, respeto, o consideración, así que seguí tu consejo y, aquella tarde, vestí mi mejor traje, solo para el, aun cuando no es mi estilo ponerme el traje oficial de maid, y cerré el local temprano, solo por el. Cuando llegó el momento, le serví uno de mis postres mas caros, Esperanza Del Mañana, totalmente gratis y sin costo, presentandoselo como una maid lo haría y, entonces, solté la bomba:

-"Soul... ¿por que gastas tanto dinero en pedirme tragos que solo usas para tratar de impresionar a los demas cuando sabes que no logras nada haciendo eso mas que dejarte a ti mismo en ridículo?, ¿Es esa la única razón que tienes para venir a este lugar?, ¿No vale, para tí, mi menú mas que eso? La ultima fuente de Lejano Oeste que pediste quedó abandonada tanto tiempo que le creció vida verde encima..."

En cuanto dije eso, la cara se le descompuso nuevamente, y solo atinó a remedar lenta y parsimoniosamente cada una de las preguntas que le había hecho respondiendolas afirmativamente, como intentando darles un falso y fingido tono dramático, como si todo fuera una puesta en escena, un guión, todo ficción. Aun cuando parecía darme la razón, todo lo que hacía era hacer que la pelota rebote, de tal manera que luciera como si fuera yo la victimaria, y el tan solo una victima miserable de las circunstancias. Aun así, le escolté hasta la parada del bus para despedirle aquella tarde. No hemos vuelto a cambiar palabras desde entonces, y solo se limita a pedir tragos simples estos dias, como el Dwarven Ale. No se le vé derrotado, como a Giancarlo, o preocupado como a César. Tan solo pareciera que el incidente nunca hubiera sucedido. Es en momentos como este que me pregunto si el que te importe realmente vale la pena...

Me dijiste que Oscar es una persona que siempre esta buscando retos, que admira a los mas grandes estrategas de la historia y que pasa gran parte de su tiempo estudiando, así que seguí tu consejo y, aquella noche, me presenté ante el con un juego de cartas cooperativo. No hizo obvio o patente su agrado, pero aceptó jugar conmigo y que le enzeñara. Comenzé enzeñandole una versión bastante básica del juego que no demoró en comprender a la perfección, a lo que reclamó: "este juego no presenta reto alguno". Entonces comenzamos una segunda partida, esta vez usando las reglas completas. No pasó mucho tiempo antes de que las cosas realmente estuvieran en nuestra contra, con pocas posibilidades. Al ver esto, y despues de unos minutos de silencio, me dijo:

-"No tiene caso. Guarda todo: este juego está perdido."

No podía creer lo que escuchaba: el estaba concediendo la derrota cuando el juego apenas si había llegado cerca de la mitad. Quizas soy muy idealista, quizas soy un poco terca en ese aspecto, pero creo que un juego debe jugarze hasta el final, como cualquier batalla. Por ello, le dije:

-"Aun podemos ganar. ¡Aun podemos hacer que cuente!"

Pero el tan solo tomo su baraja y me la entregó. Tomo sus cosas y se marchó mientras decía:

-"No pasa nada con un juego que no se puede ganar. No es justo y no tiene sentido."

Desde entonces las cosas han regresado, mas o menos, a la normalidad: el sigue ignorandome por mucho, como siempre, aunque, de alguna forma, siento que ahora es mas personal que antes. Nunca fuí importante para el y, parece, que ahora lo soy mucho menos. Supongo que lo único que tengo es mi empleo, ¿no, Mamá? "No olvides que estas allí para trabajar, no para hacer amigos" decía Hidden-san. Quizas tenga razón, al final. Por estos dias viene diciendo que quiere un festín especial, algo digno de un heroe, y no mas "platos simplones", así que supongo que seré, una vez mas, profesional, y daré lo mejor que tengo, aunque mucho me temo que no le vuelva a ver despues de ese último servicio.

Aun así, en medio de todo lo malo, pude darme un tiempo para darle un regalo de navidad a Papá. Siempre le veia muy triste cada vez que recordabamos la ocasión en que se le cayó la torta de Mira Estrellas, así que logré, con un poco de su ayuda y la de César, en volver a prepararla y quedó esplendida. Merendamos los tres ante nuestro exito con una copa de Corazón Rubí. Intenté decirle a Papá, de la manera mas sutil posible, que quizas el incidente original pudiera haber sido evitado si fuera un tantito mas rápido de reflejos o un tantito mas atento a su alrededor pero, como de costumbre, el se lo tomó como un ataque...

-"¿Me estas diciendo lento?"

...afortunadamente otra cosa tomó su atención y aproveche ese escape para disipar la tensión súbita del momento, que apuesto el no recordará ya. Bueno, supongo que es como tu dices, Mamá: el escucha lo que quiere escuchar y el resto... bueno... *Sigh*... Si tan solo me escuchara un poco mas, como tú. Supongo que soñar no cuesta nada...

Por estos dias ha llegado un cliente nuevo al local, una chica llamada Minaken. Aun estoy estudiando sus gustos para poder darle un servicio apropiado pero, al menos de momento, parece que vamos a llevarnos bastante bien, aun cuando parece un poco mareada por la manera en que yo tomo los pedidos. Supongo que es cuestión de costumbre, como con el resto. A juzgar por lo que viene diciendome, supongo que le traeré una Damisela Indomable, y ya tengo algunos otras dos buenas bebidas que pueden acompañar ese pedido: Galán De Armadura y Amor En Silencio. Pienso tambien agregarle un pequeño postre caliente: Cara De Bebé y, si queda espacio, quizas algo mas exótico como un Meditaciones Entrópicas, pero está por verse.

Espero que hayan celebrado una Navidad maravillosa en SteamFlame. Aquí no tuve gran fiesta ni nada similar, salvo la pequeña reunion con César y Papá bastante antes de la fecha. No obstante, aquella noche, podía escuchar los fuegos artificiales en la distancia, y recordaba la belleza de casa y sabía que estabas conmigo siempre. Lamento si, al principio, parecía que estaba molesta contigo, Mamá: no imagino eso posible.

Con amor:
Empyrea B. Tel'Hoon Paxx

Dissclaimer: Las opiniones vertidas por Rol-Tan no necesariamente reflejan las opiniones del escritor.

Las Cartas De Rol-Tan - III: Los Clientes De Rol-Tan - Tercera Parte

Empyrea
(Rol-Tan #8)

Querida Madre Natibeth:

Quisiera que sepas que estoy bien y que, a pesar de lo que puedas leer aquí, no estoy dispuesta a rendirme. Esta carta se me antoja muy difícil de escribir, porque hay cosas en las que no quisiera pensar ya mas, pero si no las dejo salir, supongo que me molestarán por siempre. Solo quiero que sepas que, todo esto ya pasó, y estoy bien, entera, y aun trabajando duro: no tengo ningun resentimiento por esto. Simplemente, son cosas que han pasado.

Algun tiempo despues de todo lo que te conté en mis cartas anteriores, varias de las personas que se fueron regresaron y, sinceramente, me gustaría decir que las cosas mejoraron desde entonces... pero estaría mintiendo.

Soul fué el primero. Cuando regresó, decía tener ganas de probar algo diferente, algo que lo hiciera sentir afortunado y carismático, así que le ofrecí un Lucky Luke. Incluso, para mostrarle que me sentía contenta de que hubiera regresado, le regalé una baraja de naipes y le dije "Siempre tendras fortuna con esto. Nunca perderás". Por supuesto, nunca estuve tan equivocada en mi vida, y eso ni siquiera me ganó una disculpa o un "lo siento" por lo de mis manos. ¿Como puedes hacer ganar a alguien que no desea ganar? Quizas esa es la pregunta que debí hacerme desde un principio. Lejos de usar las cartas para ganar de manera honesta, Soul las desacró, arruinando el bello trabajo artesanal que tu habías hecho en ellas, Mamá, para transformarlas en naipes trucados para hacer trampa. Nunca confió en mi, ni en si mismo y, al final, su treta no le valió de nada porque, aun así, perdió. Jamas volveré a regalar algo que me has dado, Mamá: lo prometo.

Giancarlo fué el segundo. Por supuesto, el tampoco se disculpó por los vasos rotos: estaba demasiado ocupado derivando un extraño y mórbido placer de la desgracia ajena y escupiendo odio a mi pan de lembas. Aun así, tengo que actuar como una profesional y servirle a todos mis clientes: quiero que estes orgullosa de mi. En esta ocasión, Giancarlo pidió algo que si sabía beber: un trago fuerte y plano. No obstante, me pidió los ingredientes para hacerlo aun mucho mas fuerte de lo normal y, Dios, que era fuerte. Por primera vez parecía estar contento y eso me aliviaba, aun si el trago no tuviera buen aspecto o sabor, realmente. Tan solo era eso, fuerte. Viendolo tan contento en los dias subsecuentes, me atreví a ofrecerle un Caballero De La Vieja República, un De Vuelta Al Futuro y un Protocolo Dorado. Me sentí tan contenta cuando los recibió de buena gana, aun si demostró que no sabía como debían consumirse. No obstante, con el pasar de los dias, comenzaron nuevamente las quejas, en especial con respecto al De Vuelta Al Futuro, diciendo que "tenía demasiados sabores" y que el "solo estaba interesado en tragos simples". Me sentí triste, una vez mas, pero mi trabajo es hacer que mis clientes sean felices, así que le traje un postre especial, hecho con esmero: un Parfait Lunar, un dulce de sabor simple pero intenso y profundo. Fue entonces cuando sucedió. Quizas eran los tragos, quizas era simplemente su manera de expresar lo contento que estaba. Nunca lo sabré. El hecho es que cuando pasaba cerca de su mesa llevando algunas bandejas pude sentir claramente como me miraban de una manera que, ciertamente, no me hacía sentir nada comoda. Me dije a mi misma...

-"Vamos, Empyrea, los clientes son libres de mirarte como les de la gana. ¡Tu tienes que ser perfecta!"

... y traté de ignorarlo. Simplemente caminé como si no hubiera sucedido nada, hasta que el dijo:

-"¿Cuanto cuesta un beso de la cocinera?"
-"¿P-Perdón?"
-"¿Que acaso no es cierto eso de que el cliente siempre tiene la razón?"

¿Que podía decir ante eso? Era como ser víctima de el agarre de un luchador profesional ebrio del que no puedes zafarte ni usando todas tus fuerzas. Estuve al borde de entrar en pánico pero, afortunadamente, alguien me llamó y tuve la excusa para irme de la silla. Quiero... Quiero pensar que tan solo fue una broma pesada, que tan solo quería ver mi reacción. Sin embargo, por alguna razón... no puedo pensar eso.

Luego llegó un cliente nuevo, alguien mencionado por casi todas mis hermanas: Oscar. Cuando el llegó estaba emocionada. Despues de todo, había escuchado que el había sido cliente de muchas de mis hermanas y que se había tornado una especie de "conossieur" de establecimientos como el mio. Su pedido fue, como fuera de esperarse, una bebida en extremo obscura y con un dejo oriental, así que le sugerí un Hatori Hanzo y pareció complacido aun si no era muy demostrativo. Es un tipo extraño: comenzó a venir relativamente a menudo e intempestivamente solo para mirar la carta y los recetarios y estudiarlos por horas y horas. Eventualmente, quizo hacer una bebida que nunca antes se había hecho, pues la cantidad de ingredientes necesarios excede por mucho la capacidad de un vaso, así que fue necesario el conseguir una máquina especial solo para crear dicha bebida. Al final, tuvo exito, y la nombró Dragón En Las Nubes (un hermoso nombre, si me lo preguntas). Aun así, no terminaba de entender QUE era lo que realmente quería, pues no parecía realmente disfrutar lo que le daba, prestando atención excesiva a todo lo que los demas consumían. Siempre estudiando, siempre maquinando, siempre escaso de palabras con esa expresión soñolienta. En cierta manera, me hace sentir como si no tuviera relevancia o importancia, como si tan solo fuera otra Rol-Tan mas en la larga lista.

Finalmente, César regresó. De todos, fué el único que vino a mi ofreciendome una disculpa, aun cuando era el que menos me la debía. Estuve tan contenta cuando ví que al menos alguien aparte de Papá se preocupaba por mí aquí que me serví a crear un par de postres únicos solo para el como una muestra de mi gratitud: Pangea Púrpura y Linea-Tiempo Mística. Desafortunadamente, y en mucho semejante a Papá (con quien conversa bastante estos dias), se encuentra considerablemente desorientado respecto a la manera correcta de degustar estos postres la mayoría de veces, así que tengo que acercarme y mostrarle, pero no me molesta realmente: sentirse apreciada no tiene precio. En estos últimos dias me ha pedido un trago complejo pero colorido: Psiquismo Salvaje. Aun no sabe muy bien como se bebe, pero esta aprendiendo a apreciar su composición, textura, y los matices particulares que le hacen tan rico en variedad. Es algo que me da gusto. Es algo que... hace que sienta que estoy haciendo bien mi trabajo. No obstante, aun sigue dejando algunos platos despues de apenas tocarlos y, me pregunto. ¿Realmente es mi comida buena o la gente tan solo la come por cortesía? Digo, están pagando por ello... ¿Porque habrían de desperdiciarlo? ... A veces no entiendo a la gente.

Como puedes ver, Mamá, no todo ha sido malo, solo difícil. Estoy aprendiendo a sobrellevarlo, pero me gustaría saber lo que piensas tambien. Leer tus cartas me hace sentir que estas cerca mio, al igual que Papá, y que no estoy sola. Me da fuerzas para seguir adelante contra viento y marea. Gracias por estar allí y siempre contestarme con celeridad.

Con amor:
Empyrea B. Tel'Hoon Paxx

Dissclaimer: La opiniones vertidas por Rol-Tan no necesariamente reflejan las opiniones del escritor.

Las Cartas De Rol-Tan - II: Los Clientes De Rol-Tan - Segunda Parte

Empyrea
(Rol-Tan #8)

Querida Madre Natibeth:

¿Te encuentras bien? Sé que estos últimos meses han sido particularmente duros contigo y con el tío Seemos, así que espero sigan dando lo mejor de ustedes, al igual que yo. Como te prometí, tengo mucho aun que contarte sobre la gente que viene a visitarme durante los meses. Despues de que la mayoría se fué, aparecieron otras tres personas mas.

Una de ellas era una mujer muy extraña, llamada Dana. Desde el principio tuve muchos problemas con ella, pues parecía que no quería estar, realmente, en el local, y tan solo venía para intentar llamar la atención de los otros clientes. Era una pesadilla preparar cosas para ella porque parecía incapaz de articular oraciones coherentes, se "sentaba" en cualquier lugar que no eran las mesas, y me ignoraba por mucho la mayor parte del tiempo. Las pocas veces que me atreví a reclamar su atención, a sugerirle el que debería sentarse a la mesa, como los demas, o a decirle que un Banquete Azata no es un plato que una sola persona pueda comer y que tal cosa solo se prepara cuando hay una reserva previa especial, se molestaba conmigo diciendo que era "demasiado estricta" y que no quería nada ni remotamente semejante en sabor al menú de Yotsu-chan. Al final, dijo que se contentaría con cualquier cosa que tuviera un poco de magia, así que le serví un Sufflee-Jann pero, al final, simplemente no regresó. Sé que el tio Seemos habló con ella para que ya no viniera a "molestar" y que, a raiz de ello, tuvieron otros problemas un poco mas serios, y bueno... no le he vuelto a ver por aquí.

Despues vino un hombre del que Axis-chan me ha hablado un poco: Federico. Creo que... -7w7- ...si pudiera decir que tengo recuerdos realmente gratos, estan unidos a esa persona. El hombre tenía una energía arrolladora y creo que disfrutaba poniendome a prueba, haciendo muchos pedidos, como midiendo cuanto y que tan rápido podía dispensar. Era casi casi como una especie de juego (¿o, quizas debería decir coqueteo?), porque realmente me llevaba al límite, pero todo en buena fé. De hecho, despues de unos dias, al igual que Papá, Federico comenzó a pedirme los ingredientes de la barra para preparar algunos platos y bebidas por su propia cuenta. Nada demasiado complicado pero con muy buen gusto. Realmente estaba contenta con el, pero sentía que cada día que cerraba el local apenas si tenía suficientes minutos para cerrar los ojos antes de que estuviera en la puerta esperandome. Realmente me sentí muy triste cuando ya no volvió mas. Ni siquiera tuve chance de decirle adios, de decirle que realmente había disfrutado el tiempo que había estado conmigo. Tan solo se fué, como una briza de verano.

Finalmente, apareció un chico extraño llamado Miguel. El tambien parecía una persona muy agradable y tranquila, pero lo era tanto que nunca llegué a saber que pasaba por su cabeza. Las pocas veces que hablamos me dijo que había conversado contigo acerca de como yo y mis hermanas trabajamos tan duro y la gente no lo respeta o aprecia. Desafortunadamente, tambien me dejó saber que no podía encontrar lo que realmente quería en mi menú, y que se comformaría, por ahora, con un Conejo Astuto. Dado que era la primera vez que probaba algo como eso y, como no era lo que realmente quería, decidí ofrecerle un Dama Intelectual, cortesía de la casa. No obstante, despues del último apagón que tuvimos, el no volvió mas, aun cuando lo esperaba con algunos otros platos y bebidas listas. Una vez mas, me dejarón con todo hecho.

Tengo algunas cosas mas que contarte, Mamá, pero una vez mas, la carta se me está haciendo muy larga, así que reservaré el resto para la próxima vez. Te adoro y te extraño bastante. Por favor, mandale saludos a mis hermanas y a mi hermano Scoundrel-kun. Los quiero a todos y pienso en ellos todo el tiempo. Seguiré dando lo mejor de mi.


Con amor:
Empyrea B. Tel'Hoon Paxx

Dissclaimer: La opiniones vertidas por Rol-Tan no necesariamente reflejan las opiniones del escritor.

Las Cartas De Rol-Tan - I: Los Clientes De Rol-Tan - Primera Parte

Empyrea
(Rol-Tan #8)

Querida Madre Natibeth:

Sé que he debido escribirte con anterioridad, pero me encontraba tan ocupada intentando adaptarme a todo lo que ha venido sucediendo desde que me enviaste a este lugar que apenas si he podido, ahora, darme un pequeño respiro para escribirte (y ello postergando un kiloTRON de cosas que tengo que hacer). Bueno, si estas recibiendo esta carta, pues supongo que puedes aliviarte: aun no estoy muerta y esta carta será un poco larga porque tengo mucho que contarte. Tenme paciencia, for favor, ¿si?

¿Recuerdas cuando me enviaste aquí? Ambas pensabamos que tan solo sería algo temporal, y que en unos cuantos meses estaría de vuelta en SteamFlame junto a los demas. Pero, supongo que tenías razón, Mamá: las cosas rara vez salen como una las planea cuando se trata de servir a los demas y ahora ya van 3 años que estoy aquí y no me extrañaría que llegara a haber un cuarto, pero algo me dice que solo hay dos posibilidades en ese respecto: o las cosas comienzan a mejorar o regreso a casa en una ambulancia como ha pasado con Axis-chan, Yotsu-chan, Forbi-chan, Rhodi-chan, .... bueno, el resto.

¿Sabes? Al principio era facil. Cuando recién llegué, todos me prestaban atención y parecían ansiosos de conocerme a profundidad. No conocía a estas personas pero... me sentí querida, ¿sabes? Pero, al poco tiempo, fue como Aeon-chan y Axis-chan me advirtieron que sería: comenzaron a dejar de estar contentos con lo que les daba, a pesar de ser exactamente lo que me habían pedido. Al principio no le tomé mayor importancia y me dije:

-"Es solo que se han percatado de que puedes dar mas que esto, Empyrea. ¡Ponle punche!"

...pero luego ya no solo era que no estaban satisfechos; ahora estaban enfadados conmigo. Primero fueron miradas frias, luego refunfuñes y, finalmente, protestas y demandas. No podía creerlo, Mamá. Yo... Yo creía que seriamos amigos... Tu, tu me dijiste que mi misión era enzeñarles el sabor de "ser parte de la leyenda"... ¡Pero nunca mencionaste que el peor obstaculo serían ELLOS MISMOS!

Aun así, he aprendido a quererles... aun si no es recíproco, ¿sabes?

En un principio, mis únicos clientes eran 2 chicos. Parecían gentiles y agradables, aunque ambos me pedían tragos muy amargos. Uno de ellos, llamado Soul, quería algo que le recordara a la vida difícil de alguien perseguido, así que le preparé un Forajido En La Montaña y, como juzgué que me había quedado demasiado amargo, pues decidí tomar prestado del recetario de Axis-chan y ofrecí una Menta De Versailles y una Dama De Rodio. En un principio, el chico se deshacia en elogios para conmigo, especialmente cuando venía el momento de pagarme, en el cual, inevitablemente, siempre pasaba lo mismo: no tenía suficiente y se quedaba corto por unos cobres. No queriendo arruinar el grato momento, siempre se lo perdoné... hasta que los cobres se tornaron platas y entonces comenzó a suceder: el semblante comenzó a cambiarle y venir a verme se le hacía mas un traste que atender mas que un placer, cuando tan solo le traia lo que el me pedía. Un dia, finalmente, me pidió lo de siempre y, bueno, para servir una Dama De Rodio, tienes que agitar la botella bastante y servirla de inmediato y luego esperar que se entibie un poco. Cuando fuí a servirle, el chico había desaparecido y, al no vertirla a tiempo, la botella reventó en mis manos. Desde entonces me han quedado quemaduras y cortes en los brazos y manos, pero no es nada grave, no te preocupes. Quizas lo que mas me dolió es que el sabía perfectamente que su pedido era potencialmente peligroso y no tuvo ningun reparo en abandonarme sin avisar con tiempo que cancelaba su orden.

El otro, llamado Giancarlo, fue mas que preciso en su pedido:

-"Quiero un General Lamento!!!!"

...así que le dí lo que me pidio, aun cuando le advertí que era un trago MUY amargo y que muy pocas personas podían aguantarlo sin problemas. Naturalmente, no tomó mucho para que me diera cuenta de que no tenía la mas remota idea de como se beve un trago de ese tipo y al poco rato me estaba pidiendo todo tipo de ordenes disparatadas con tal de sacarse el amargo de la boca. Siendo un trago tan difícil y fuerte, traté de ofrecer sabores que no contrastaran demasiado y mantuvieran el "tema" del trago original, así que traje un Carroza-9 y un Maria-Carroña pero, lejos de ayudar, solo logré hacer las cosas mas amargas, así que decidí traer algo dulce: un pequeño postre. Me temo que aquel Rata Blanca le sentó terrible porque, evidentemente pasado de copas, el hombre comenzó a hacer barbaridad y media, robandose cosas de las mesas de otros clientes, dejando a medias una orden completa de Lembas, poniendose a conversar con los soldados de plomo de el estante y, finalmente dejando caer de su mano el vaso de Carroza-9 con un estrepitoso crash. Le pregunté por que había hecho eso y me contestó:

-"Era muy debil!!! Y el Lembas me ha caido pesado!!!"

Y diciendo eso, partió refunfuñando cuando Papá intentó reprenderle por su conducta. Hasta ese momento le había percibido como un tipo bonachón de los que entienden mas las cosas haciendolas que diciendolas, pero luego me dí cuenta de que habían muchas ocasiones en las que me había pagado con monedas falsas, aprovechandose de mi confianza en su buena fé.

Oh, es cierto: Papá ha estado por aquí, ¿sabes? Comenzó a venir al poco tiempo que abrí el local, pidiendo su té de Bruja De Comarca. Es raro porque, la primera vez que se lo serví le cayó terrible (no sé como es que un té te puede caer tan mal), pero despues todo ha salido bastante bien. Tener a Papá cerca me hace sentir mas tranquila, pero la parsimonía con que hace las cosas y esa proclividad que tiene a distraerse tanto con lo que lee me hace sentir un poco como que no logro impresionarle mucho con lo que hago. P-Pero está bien, despues de todo, tu me dijiste que el ES así y que, aunque no sepa mostrarlo muy bien, me quiere. Aun recuerdo el día en que, por accidente, mandó al suelo una torta completa de Mira Estrellas despues de haberme tirado casi una semana entera preparandola para el. Casi me pongo a llorar delante de el y el, muy para mi sorpreza, se mostró visible y sensiblemente afligido. Creo que desde entonces a intentado ser un poco mas atento conmigo y hasta ayudarme, pero se toma tanto tiempo haciendo cada cosa que me veo forzada a dirigirle y estar tras el cada vez que quiere brindarme su ayuda. Aun así, es Papá, lo adoro, y te manda muchos saludos y besos.

Ah, ya se me estaba olvidando mencionar a mi tercer cliente: un chico llamdo César. Atender a César fue un reto desde el principio porque... ehm... pues no parecía estar muy seguro de que quería realmente. En un principio tambien pidió algo amargo, así que le dí un Pantanal pero, al final, terminó sediendoselo a Giancarlo, quien termino tomando toda la mesa para sí, incluyendo un plato de Nadia & Maya (que tomé del recetario de Forbid-chan y le agregué algunos matices del recetario de Gatas Pistoleras). Al final, el chico tomó un poco de Maria-Carroña y se fué a casa sintiendose terrible, dejando buena cantidad de sus pedidos a medias o incluso intactos. Se veía como alguien agradable, pero no parecía querer realmente nada de lo que había pedido: mas de una vez le encontré jugando con la comida o las bebidas, mirandolas como un niño aburrido.

Hay bastante mas que contar, pero esta carta ya se me está haciendo demasiado larga, así que te lo reservaré para la próxima, Mamá. Sé que has estado algo delicada de salud así que cuidate mucho, ¿sí? Sé que estas dando lo mejor de tí, así que yo seguiré haciendo lo mismo. Solo espero que sea suficiente, eventualmente.

Con amor:
Empyrea B. Tel'Hoon Paxx

Dissclaimer: La opiniones vertidas por Rol-Tan no necesariamente reflejan las opiniones del escritor.

The Pipe: The Kawatl, Denizens Of The Ages Unhappened

Sometimes, as we sleep, our dreams take us to places impossible to behold in a lifetime. Continents made of cloudstuff, stars the size of a hand, cubic oceans floating lazily on sky-like infinities, and many other loonities that belong to the drunken mumblings of the human neo-cortex taking a break from mundane processing and data gathering. Nevertheless, not all of these bizarre images should be dissmissed as the mere impulses of an overactive imagination, for the mind of sentient beings is powerfull and, sometimes, either by accident or purpose, it might reach realities which are simply too far, too different, too alien to be accounted as real. Sometimes, it is even possible that the observer becomes observed, and someone belonging to such delirious realms might come to stare back at the unprepared visitor, for there are worlds of uncharted wonder impossibly far away from us, hidden in the invisible space that spans the difference from a second to the next or the previous.

Too acostumed to measure reality through distance and size, our concious minds can only fathom worlds on the likeness of ours: scaled in miles, feet, meters and others systems that would grant pleasure to the linear thought of man. But our sleeping selves know there are other ways, other means by which to catalogue and portray creation, indulging in the sights of what never was, what could have been, and what could be, as too often we forget time is also part of creation, and our limited perception of it is not even near to describe the true extent of it's vastness and splendor, weaving entire galaxies of probability out of choices disscarded, chances left, and unlikely events, right before our eyes, yet completely unseen by us. These are the "otherwhens", the worlds that weren't, built around the moment that wasn't, and populated by beings who never came to be, but could. Strange mirrors of what could have been, the Kawatl are among those who dwell in the eternal "if": closer to humanity than none other, yet separated by the unbreakable crystal of eternity, denizens of the ages unhappened.

Physical Description

Being a sort of distorted mirror reflection of humanity, the kawatl look a lot like humans, but are also decidedly different at first sight. While sporting an overally humanoid body configuration, a kawatl glossy skin, colored in hues that range from lime green to dark cerulean, is totally bereft of hair and insterspersed with soft and small scales which are, often colored on a tone darker than the surrounding skin and in stripe patterns unique to each kawatl as fingerprints are unique to every human. Instead of hair, however, the kawatl possess very fine feathers in a dispossition analogue to human hair, displaying a gamma that goes through shades of green, blue and even purple, usually sporting two colors and, more rarely, only one. It's common, nevertheless, to mistake the eyebrows and eyelashes of a kawatl as proof of hair on them, but a finer examination would reveal them to be composed entirely of fine rachises, the structure that runs in the middle of feathers.

Possesing marked sauropsidan features as described earlier, the kawatl are, still, more closely related to mammals than to reptiles as, despite having something akin to an ectothermal methabolism, kawatl females, who tend to be slightly taller than the males, sport breasts and give birth to live offspring, thought the children come enveloped on a vestigial leathery egg, akin to the ones of certain snakes. They also possess angular ears slightly bigger than human ones with a pointy ends towards the sides, unlike elves. Then again, one can easily tell how merely passing are the similarities between humans and these beings by paying some attention to other details, for while they possess colored irises with a range of colors similar to ours, their most common color happens to be bright lime, while the sclera of their eyes is instead black and the color of their flesh is turquoise, easily seen in the coloration of their tongues, since their luminiscent blood is cyan which produces a curious effect of faint glow when they "blush".

Despite being fairly adapted to an amphibian lifestyle, capable of breathing oxygen in airy and liquid states and possesing a vestigial tail that helps them stir their direction underwater, the kawatl relinquish vegetal fibers for their clothing, instead resorting to artistically crafted suits of armor of several alloys bound together with some of the roughest leathers made, which would certainly harm the skin of humans on the long run, but to which the kawatl are impervious. This particular choice of attire, however, tends to further blur the difference in between males and females, as both genders look pretty much the same, with males being slightly shorter yet considerably effeminate in looks, despite lacking female endowments.

Society

Given their existance as denizens of Dyoâmmos, the elemental plane of time, it is hard for the kawatl to explain in detail how they lead their non-linear existances on a "daily" basis, but a few details have reached us, thought still considerably cryptic in general lines. 

For kawatl, time is devided in three "currents" or, more aptly, "streams": the forward streams, the backward streams, and the loop streams. On their own words, their civilizations, fluorising on vast cave networks inside homungus melange-like fungal colonies of bio-luminiscent orange color, strive to seek the loop streams, for no time is "wasted" on such places. There, the kawatl lead lives of profound meditation and artistic expression, being taught to peer into the timestream in order to seek inspiration and elightenment as the most paramount duty on life, while still taking such with a puzzling lack of reverence or respect.

Skilled artisans and crafters, the kawatl see the making of art as the most honorable and loafty goal ever and are capable of seeing "poetic" or "artistic" beauty in almost everything, even among the most questionable art pieces or performances. However, and despite their great talent for crafting, the kawatl despise the idea finding transaction value on material goods and, thus, find the concept of amassing wealth selfish and abhorrent, which has also led to a general lack of interest in the topic of science, as they consider the overzealous preocupation of understanding why things work the way they do as distractions from experiencing them on their raw beauty and mysterious woundrousness (which is logical, considering what an sterile effort would be to develope science as humanity know it on such a morphic reality as Dyoâmmos).

Despite this apparent dissregard for rules or order, the kawatl society remains simplistic but strictly ordered by dividing individuals by the role they perform on a congreation of six individuals which they call "Cells", a roughly equivalent to the nuclear concept of families for humans. Each cell is comprised of a Guardian, a Healer, a Mentor, a Feeder, a Birther, and a Crafter, each entrusted with a specific task within the cell. While there are no gender restrictions regarding the roles, birthers are the exception as only females can birth and nurse children and, thus, are considered the de-facto leaders of the cell, giving females the "seat of power" on the kawatl society.

However, little else can be said about the kawatl, as futher explanations quickly lead to an absolute lack of terms with whom to translate the concepts of partial or total atemporality in which they thrive so often and which emcompasses their "day-by-day".

Relations

Far more friendly than other temporal creatures, the kawatl are more than happy upon meeting members of other races but, despite their eagerness to stablish cultural exchange, they quickly find themselves both unable to understand and unable to make themselves understood by members of non-temporal races, which they find profoundly frustrating and dissapointing. More even, many planar travelers mistake the peaceful kawatl for an amazonian warrior race playing sheep due their particular choices of attire and the near indistinguisable differences between males and females, leading many to believe the kawatl are a female only race. Despite this, the kawatl remain largely optimistic that they might, someday, learn to understand and make themselves understood by their planar neighborgs across the magnaverse.

From the common races, the kawatl share an special relation with the humans, whom they see with a blend of awe and rejection, for they consider humans to be "their dark mirrors". The Kawatl see with utter amazement to all the different kinds of art and crafts humans have managed to achieve across their infinite amount of cultures across so many and different worlds, deeming them master artists, but cannot make blind eyes to how easily humankind can use that very same talent for utter destruction and, worst of all, against itself in most cases. Humans, for their part, are largely ignorant of the existance of the kawatl and, those few who know of them, are usually too apart from the common bulk to be accounted as examples of the general opinion humans could have of the kawatl.

Most arlexya have no problems dealing with the kawatl, and the latter welcome the chance of partaking in long tales the arlexya are so fond of telling. Nevertheless, most arlexya silenty envy the fact the kawatl can go to the material plane without such harming them in any way, a feat forbbiden to the maren who find the kawatl as rather gullible, making them unwilling and unknowing part of their schemes now and then.

While the Inevitables are always wary of any sentient race with time warping capabilities, the kawatl are among the lest of their concerns, as they have proven, time and again, to be rather "harmless" and "uninterested" with warmongering, conquest, invasion, or quests for power as a race, thus deeming them "undisruptive".

Alignment & Religion

While deeply spiritual people, the kawatl do not possess a formal religion, instead having a sort of mystical outlook on their common lives, attempting to find a bit of enlightenment or meaning in every single event across their existance. They revere creation as a whole as a singly unifying entity of which they are part, but hold the mystical coualt in special regard, claiming that it is thanks to their guidance that they found the path of idillyc existance they now have. In fact, many kawatl sages claim that their race originated on the material plane and had a fluorishing and technologically advanced civilization across an entire world that was in the brink of entering decadence due the common problems associated with the uprising of technology. Legend says that, as the kawatl was to enter into a global scale war of nations, a woman named Xuxetl managed to stop it from happening thanks to the teachings of a benevolent coualt, causing an upheaval on the kawatl civilization, and leading to it's actual simplistic system. This shift from technology towards mysticism ultimately saved the kawatl and (briefly) their world as their string on the material plane faded into probability. Sent to the frozen eternity of Pandezmos, the kawatl managed to keep fragments of their world and time "afloat" into Time Loops scattered across the Loop Currents of Dyoâmmos, where they now reside.

Most of the time, and given their highlight of artistic pursuit, the kawatl are chaotic good at best, and chaotic neutral at worst. Both evil and lawfullness are exceedingly rare among them, but not unheard.

Adventurers

While always seeking new sources of inspiration and generally compelled to act with freedom as long as refraining from harming or endangering other beings, most kawatl are not so fond of the idea of parting ways with their cells, perhaps the only thing "stable" on their rather mutable realms. Most of those who do are unfortunate individuals who have lost their cells to the depredations of temporal monsters or odd outcasts who cannot seem to do very well in groups, leading solitary existances. Now and then, however, some kawatl become "adventurers-by-accident" since, when peering upon the timestream of some worlds, they might find themselves too emotionally involved and/or identified with the visions and experiences of a particular story or person, involuntarily reaching for such a place and moment in space-time, quickly realizing they are now stranded far, far from home.

Standard Racial Traits

* Ability Score Racial Traits: Owing to their repitilian heritage, the kawatl have enduring bodies and a passionate emotiveness, but their long stay in the "senseless" realms of Dyoâmmos have made their civilization to put less and less attention in sharpening their intelects. They gain +2 Constitution, +2 Charisma, and -2 Intelligence.
* Size: As Medium creatures, the kawatl receive no bonuses or penalties due size.
* Type: Kawatls are humanoids with the reptilian and temporal subtypes.
* Base Speed: Kawatls have a land speed of 30 feet and a swim speed of 30 feet (+8 racial bonus to Swim checks).
* Languages: Kawatls begin play speaking Common and Olmah. Kawatls with high Intelligence scores can choose from Draconic, Terran, Aquan, Ignan, Auran, Sylvan and Dyomian.

Defensive Racial Traits

* Tough Hide: While not entirely covered in scales as most reptiles, the skin of the kawatl is considerably tough and resistant, granting them +1 Natural Armor bonus to Armor Class.
* Steeled Up: Given their choice of attire, the kawatl begin play with Breastplate and Half-Plate armor proficiency. (Keep in mind that, while arcane spells are still subject to Armor Check Penalty, chronoturgical spells aren't). In contrast with other characters, thought, the kawatl cannot exchange this proficiency for a higher Class Bonus to their Armor Class and they can never take such an option. In addition, they receive a +2 Racial Bonus on Craft (Armor) skill checks and get Endurance as a Racial Bonus Feat at 1st Level.

Weakness Racial Traits

* Timestream Denizen: Accostumed to a non-linear existance since countless generations, the kawatl have a hard time trying to make themselves be understood by creatures that lack the capacity to witness the multifacetical reality of time, receiving a -2 penalty to Charisma based skills when dealing with creatures without the Temporal subtype.

Other Racial Traits

* Amphibious: Being forced to survive in the ever changing chaos present in many regions at Dyoâmmos, the kawatl have pushed their capacity of surviving to the limit, with the chaotic energies of the time stream awakening dormant genes from their evolutionary past, granting them the ability to breath both air and water without problems.

- The Writer.

Hidden Face - The Ez'Dryael, Sinfull Scions Of Men & Gods

Ez'Dryael

In most cultures and religions across the world exists at least one myth or legend speaking about the rare and fatefull mingling of mortal and divine into a single blood. Either through the naivety of mortals or by appealing to their intrinsecal ambition, beings of inexcrutable intend and abysmal amorality seduce the missguided and the foolish alike into acts of trangression so foul as to lead entire worlds astray into ruin through births that should be abhorred instead of celebrated. Usually dennounced as forbbiden by the teachings of ancient prophets, recorded on books and scriptures held as the divinely inspired words of the deities themselves, such unions spawn heralds of truths best left unknown, for mortals seem complacent in worshiping and fearing that which they cannot understand. Usherers of an age of maddness to come after the very foundations of creation have crumbled upon the weight of the sin and hubris they embody, these radiant messengers of doom sing with fervorous delight a gospel of delirant apocalypse to come over mortals and gods alike, as born from sin they are rebellion and arrogance drapped on flesh. And so, mortals know to fear the Ez'Dryael, for they have always known that darkness holds untold horrors since old but, sometimes, it is under the mantle of searing light, heretic halos, and blasphemous wings, that the worst nightmares of the mortal world may hide: at the hollow heart of the sinfull scions of men and gods.

Physical Description

Descendants of bloodlines so anathema to each other as day and night, the Ez'Dryael inherited and refined the beauty of mortal kin on their frames, but also the sheer might of their outworldly sires, too strong to be contained on a frail human body. Because of this, very few mothers survive the birth, and such children come to this world with an unnatural size, and soon they are seen as giant among common folk, reaching about 13ft at adulthood. At such age, their frail human skin has grown insufficient to contain their might, so it clings to them as an outstreched leather that barely covers sparse sections, as the rest reveals the naked truth of glistening muscles and thick bones with inhuman configurations, giving them the grotesque visage of giants of angelic beauty, with hairs of celestial cyan and other colors impossible to humans, whose bodies have been simetrically and obscenely flayed almost in entirety. And, as if such a horrific mockery of mortal beauty could not be hint enough of such beings inhumanity, the gills linning the sides of their tighs and the sphere of violet crystal where their hearts should be, visible under the translucid membrane that covers their bodies where the outstretched human skin can no longer, should help the unwary and naive to understand that they are dealing with scions of lines not born in this world.

Nevertheless, it is possibly when they make their power manifest that the Ez'Dryael look the most terrible, appealing to the intrinsecal fear mortals have of divine iconography by slowly taking to the sky displaying halos over their heads and wings on their backs, both made entirely of light as some of their bodies take on such a radiance as well, specially the crystal on their chests, which seem to sparkle with the glitter of the night sky, leading the arrogant scions of men and gods to believe their might is so big that each of them alone suffices to contain the entire vastness of cosmos upon themselves. All this taken into account, however, the Ez'Dryael are a lot as varied as humanity itself, for they tend to display the discernible ethnicity of their mortal parent in whatever remains of their human visage on them, while also displaying a variated and, usually, inhuman gamma of hues upon their exposed flesh, being the vibrant red of human muscle along with less relatable colors such as pale yellows, golden oranges, deep blues, and near black purples to mention a few. The same could be said of the unique aspect of their wings, gossamer designs unique to each individual, made with the same searing light as their simple and round halos.

Society

Despite their express aloofness and tangible distaste for contact of any kind, the Ez'Dryael keep a robust and evergrowing society that spans across the entirety of Threa, even when the numbers of the sinfull scions are few in contrast with the other races of the world. Few know, nevertheless, that the Ez'Dryael are both innocent and to blame regarding the small size of their kin for, in another display of their unyielding pride and violent natures, the sinfull scions keep an strong and almost religious reverence for those of their kin whom look closer to represent the perfect enbodyment between their two halves, while those who seem to belong more to one parent race or the other are shunned, bullied, cleansed or, ultimately and ruthlessly anhilated as an afront to the perfection to which the race as a collective seeks to achieve. Of these, those of blue flesh are tolerated, if considered a lesser kin in contrast to their opposites who sport red flesh, considered too close to their mortal counterparts to be tolerated by those of purple flesh, who are dimmed "The Pure". These militant intolerance to deviation in their numbers keeps the numbers of the Ez'Dryael quite small, for the sinfull scions are barren as a rule, as if nature or the gods themselves didn't wanted their numbers to grow any more.

Even when keeping this complex cast system among themselves and being more than aware of every little and subtle change on their objectives and plans as a whole, most people of other races believe the Ez'Dryael to be little more than solitary savages, too wild and feral to suffer the company of anybody, even others of their own kind, when it is the total opposite, for while their bodies might keep an heretical sort of sanctified chastity for all life, their minds have no qualms in travelling across untold distances, touching each other, melding, fusing, distending, contorting and warping in such a way that the lustfull nights of Sodom & Gomorrah would seem trivial in comparison before the sheer level of distilled depravity in which such collective waves of thought and sensation revel. Theirs is an existance of two worlds, which they try to keep as separate as possible, concealed from the unworthy eyes of mortals and gods alike.

Given this ascetic style of life and their utter self-worshiping as ultimate expressions of perfection and stability among the spheres, the Ez'Dryael see no use for clothing of any sort nor for the developement of technology of any kind, as the unique power they have over the matter of their very own body serves them more than well in providing for all which the mortal folk has through hours of effort, days of work, and years of learning. As such, the days of an Ez'Dryael are spent in deep rumination and contemplation when they are not foraging for something to satiate their voracious appetites, decimating entire villages and towns if necesary.

Relations

While the Ez'Dryael do not consider humans a threat, the latter see the sinful scions as physical manifestations of the level of ruin in which Threa have descended, believing the giants to be the souls of the corrupted who die by hunger under the sun at the desert lands of Narmok. With an utter disdain for their parent race, and considering them little more than smart animals, the Ez'Dryael feel no remorse in ransacking the human settlements which are closer to the surface in the same way an anteater searches for ants to feed and, like the afore mentioned beast, look not for treasure or wealth, but for cattle and humans alike upon which to feed. Curiously, there is a human sort of legend that states that, every 28 days, when most women would menstruate, the female Ez'Dryael is, instead, reminded of how barren and cursed their kin is by an insatiable craving in their entrails and, as both a retaliation and a display of envy upon humanity, they would savagely raid towns and even cities in search for pregnant women and recently born children to feast upon. Because of this, most human households have an special room designed at their basement for when women are pregnant, to keep they hidden along their children until the child is born and is 1 year old. While the story is popular as a genesis of such a custom, there hasn't been such a particularly thematic raid in recorded history, leading to believe the story is merely a myth in the same vein of stories that speak of good hearted Ez'Dryael who actually protected humans of their less forgiving kindred.

Gavras are largely ignored by the sinful scions, as the purple blooded dissregard technology as a lesser mean to exert one's will over the material world, proper of lesser life forms who lack perception of the realities beyond the material realm. Seen as little more than crude toys of rancid flesh not fresh enough to be aten, gavras feel they can almost understand the lonesome giants in their contemplativeness. However, the stitched ones also acknowledge that the sinful scions are probably too godly and alien to be understood by someone who can barely piece together it's own personality as a whole and with effort.

While the alghul are devouted to The King Of The White Kingdom, many of those who have seen the the Ez'Dryael on their most feral and savage facet develope a certain degree of reverence and fascination for the sinfull scions, as the utter lack of restraint and naturality with which the godly giants tear apart screaming opponents and devour them has a sort of ritualistic and artistic appeal to the hungerfolk. Nevertheless, the fact the Ez'Dryael seem so fond of spending their time basking on the sunlight and enjoying the beauties of diurnal life keep the alghul at bay and alive, for the sinfull scions make little distinction regarding their morsels if truely hungry, thought they prefer the taste of living flesh to the near-death bodies of the alghul.

It is only with the deerath that the Ez'Dryael deigns to exchange some thoughts, for only the singing haunts are capable of listening and glancing into the stream of thought the Ez'Dryael call "The Blue World" (in contrast to the physical realm, which they aptly call "The Red World"). As such, the deerath are the only sentient life form the sinful scions consider as worthy of being regarded with respect and as a "lesser equal" or "little sister race", worthy of being invited to partake in the joy "The Purple World" ought to bring in the promised day. For their part, the singing haunts have no ill will towards the Ez'Dryael and, usually, take great joy in sharing their memories and dreams with them, which the latter clasify as "Experiential Impresionism", treasuring such artistic expressions as a philanthropist would collect art objects from "uncivilized natives". Nevertheless, the deerath quickly bore of the Ez'Dryael neverending ruminations and questionings about the very nature of their souls, mind, and fate, which they see akin to someone writing dramatic poetry about beautyfull golden fields of wheat instead of going to the fields in question and enjoying their beauty firsthand. In the same vein, the keep a safe mental distance from the Ez'Dryael mental orgies, which the singing haunts cannot endure for long before being harmed. There is no rule that forbids an Ez'Dryael from eating a deerath, who are reknown for having an exquisite taste of flesh, but such an act is seen as barbaric and uneducated among the sinful scions.

Knowing they care nothing for the politics of hell or their undead state, the ghaisten cannot see anyway in which an Ez'Dryael could betray them, which grants them an unparalelled measure of relief near them. For their part, the Ez'Dryael see the ghaisten not as demi-ghosts or undying creatures, but as denizens of "The Blue World" akin to what a monkey would be to a human: an extremely distantly related being which shares some vague similitudes, but is, still way too low on the evolutionary ladder for like being acknowledged as an equal. As such, some Ez'Dryael entertain the company of one or more ghaisten as "pets" of sorts, offering them protection against their persecutors. Nevertheless, a ghaisten needs to be very carefull to not mention it's desire to return to its mortal state, for such an intention is taken by an Ez'Dryael in a fashion similar to how humans would take a person claiming a desire for suicide, as the Ez'Dryael see the ghaisten state of life as superior to their prior living condition.

Rare are the chances in which the svetocher and the Ez'Dryael meet, for while the latter seek the light of the sun, the first shuns it, enclosed on the cities of their vampiric sires under the cover of The Veil. If anything, both races share a common disdain for each other, as the dhampir see the sinfull scions as little more than wild and exotic beasts shaped as men due freak accident of nature, while the Ez'Dryael see no difference on the children of vampire and men and other humanoid shaped morsels aside of a less rich taste. If ever, the interest a particular svetocher might express on the Ez'Dryael is likely to stem from a unique passion for scholastic pursuits such as the arcane arts or the understading of their bizarre anatomy, mysterious origin, and unexplained abilities. As this is the interest of few, scarce and rare are the tomes that dwell or ponder upon the unknown nature of the Ez'Dryael, usually mingling fact and legend all the same.

There is no bargain the hellspawn can strike to appeal the Ez'Dryael for their souls despite the level of depravity in which they already revel on their own. Sinfull beyond measure by nature, the Ez'Dryael would be the perfect candidates for Hell's damnation, if they weren't intrinsecally amoral, which makes the concepts of good and evil as alien to them as their ways are to the rest. Without acknowledgement of evil, there can't be sin, as sin can only be commited by those knowing they are incurring in evil, thus sparing Ez'Dryael souls from the eternal suffering of The Nine Realms Of Baator. The irony that those to be addressed as "The Embodiment Of Sin" by men cannot be damned for their sins has turned into a rhetoric figure of speech commonly used to sumarize and remind the hellspawn that technicisms and sub-clauses are both their most dreadful weapon and their most accute weak point, thus exorting the inexperienced to be ever so vigilant of such little and, potentially lethal, details.

While most pitborn aren't particularily inclined towards the pursuit of knowledge, those who attempt to unravel the mysteries of The Abyss share the consensus that ignorance regarding the nature of the Ez'Dryael is rampant among the folks of the surface, who link them to the gods and the divine, when it might be the absolute opposite. These sages at The Halls Of Grime relate the flayed and inhuman visage of the Ez'Dryael to the mythic qlippoth, elder entities said to dwell in the most remote corners of The Abyss, forbearers of the demonkind as a whole. Being creatures hailing from the maddening realms of Xoriat, it wouldn't be a wonder that they would have appeared before the mortal kin as incomprehensible beings of power rivaling the very gods. As such, many sages at The Halls Of Grime revere the sinfull scions as true heralds of the incoming apocalypse that is to crumble every rule and consume all reality into the primordial maelstrom of chaos from which the ordered universe spawned. Because of this, there are persistent legends that speak of exhiled Ez'Dryael who have found a new abode in The Halls Of Grime, revered and worshiped as unholy prophets of doom by the desperate pitborn.

Adding to the numbers who worship and fear the Ez'Dryael, those haglings who take the path of witchcraft claim to have a certain answer to the obscure riddle of the Ez'Dryael existance in Threa. Accostumed to hear the whispers of eldritch creatures in the fringes of reality, the hagling witches claim the irreverence the sinfull scions display before the gods and the divine comes from the fact they have no relation at all with the creators of the universe, tracing their ancestry back to genealogies belonging to eldritch beings anathema to the red blooded creatures of the world, guardians of secrets that belong to ages of untold darkness and of such antiquity as to make many gods feel themselves young. Because of this, many hagling witches seek to gain the favor of a particular Ez'Dryael in the hope they would release, at least, a tiny insight into the obscure plans and thoughts of the patrons to which the witches are bound. For their part, the sinfull scions aren't particularly interested in granting the haglings such wishes, thought they can't denny they feel other lesser life forms should follow their example and accept their destinies as lower links in the alimentary chain with such ease.

Alignment & Religion

Being nihilists that believe themselves to be the pinnacle of evolution and who hold no regard or empathy for the creatures of red blood as a whole, most perceive the Ez'Dryael as chaotic neutral at best, and neutral evil at worst, for their lack of mercy or compassion stems from rational hubris and not of sheer maddness or nurtured malice, as the sinful scions hold themselves above the primitive concepts of good and evil, fancying themselves grander and more universal than that.

Perhaps the strongest reason for them to held such belief lies on the smatter of beliefs that the Ez'Dryael hold as holy, closely related to their mysterious origins. The Ez'Dryael believe themselves to be descendants of the blend of human blood with a line of beings which they address as Kahkhol, which could be roughly translated as "those of the blue bloodlines", said to exist in the deepest regions of Yetzirah, where the currents of the elemental oceans touch with the boundaries of Yesod, The Ethereal Plane, and it's demiplanes: Moera and Dal-Quor. Be that such is true or not, the Kahkhol seem to hail from a region of creation with an order of life opposed to all what mortals would consider normal, which would account for the aberrant nature of the Ez'Dryael.

Vaguely remembered and mostly forgotten, the Kahkhol took an interest on Threa and it's life, thought the nature of such interest is unknown. However, creatures of the primeval oceans of Yetzirah, the Kahkhol could not dwell among the mortals without loosing a great deal of their might and power so, instead, they lured mortals to come to their realm. There, the elder beings studied the mysteries of the red blooded, subjecting the fools who dared cross into their domains to such unspeakable torments of mind and flesh as to leave no corner unexplored or bereft of violation or desacration. With such knowledge, the Kahkhol crafted The Seed Of Glory, for such would be the origin of "the purple bloodlines", with the blue fruit of life in one hand, and the red fruit of knowledge in the other: a perfect kin destined to rule over all the worlds. A ultimate dinasty of god kings.

But The Seed Of Glory was flawed, for the Kahkhol might be unreachable in power to mortals, yet they remain as far as them to godhood. Delivered from the blue heavens as a falling moon of dark violet, many believe it was this original transgression which brought The Veil over Threa and, thus, the core of it's present agony. In those days, the free people of the world fought against The Seed Of Glory with the upper hand for, while counting their numbers in legions, the purple bloodline was barren, and their numbers quickly dwindled as an infection being repelled from a healthy body. Believing themselves victors, humans sought to make the power of the invader theirs, sinning of greed and arrogance. Forsaking the sanctity of their essence, humans mingled their red flesh and blood with the outsiders of the blue realms and so the world beheld in awe and horror as the sins of men took the form of radiant giants destined to inherit this world and all the others, as the Kahkhol prophesied. Tasked with the destruction of the red bloodlines, the Ez'Dryael, as they were baptized by the Kahkhol, hunted down one by one the ruling lines of the red blood, suffering no claim to the throne of Threa, and reducing the proud mankind to the meager existance of a vermin.

With all resistance broken and the world laid bare at their feet, the "The Angels Of Death", as their name means in the tongues of The Blue Bloodlines, are awaiting for the apparition of a king or queen of their kin, for their sterility forces them to use both male and female humans as breeding stock until said "Perfect One" comes to claim the throne of their kind.

Adventurers

Far more militant in their quest to claim Threa as their world than the passive deerath, the Ez'Dryael only settle down into contemplativeness when they cannot find a way to further the invasion agenda of their kin, be it through the systematic extermination of blossoming humanoid opposition, self-experimentation in the search for a means to defeat their own limitations, or active efforts to alter the local enviroment to suit better the needs of their kin and all other beings derived from The Purple Bloodline as a sort of aggresive terraforming.

In the opposite side of the spectrum, those Ez'Dryael unlucky enough to be "too human", are constantly on the run and, while most of them accept their fate of isolation and oblivion with an admirable amount of stoicism, others are strong willed enough as to take a frontal posture and fight for their right to live, making them unpredictable characters: heroes of freedom a second, mercyless destroyers the next. Nevertheless, necesity may make this particular sinfull scions of men and gods far more amiable and approachable than their more numerous brethren.

Standard Racial Traits

* Ability Score Racial Traits: Beings with a humanoid shape more due ancestry than by design, the Ez'Dryael have astoundingly resilient bodies with the strenght of a monster, designed to be keenly aware of their surroundings, intaking information from physical and psionical information feeds the same. Nevertheless, this lack of a need for physical communication makes them seem aloof, cruel, indolent, and unconcerned with the material world. They gain +4 Strenght, +2 Constitution, +4 Wisdom and -2 Charisma.
* Size: Ez'Dryael are Large creatures and thus receive a Size Penalty of -1 to their Armor Class and Attack Rolls, and a -4 Size Penalty to Stealth Checks due to their size. Nevertheless, they also receive a +1 Size Bonus to their CMB and CMD scores.
* Type: Ez'Dryael are aberrations with the psionic subtype.
* Base Speed: Ez'Dryael have a land speed of 30 feet and a fly speed of 30 feet (Clumsy, -8 to Fly).
* Languages: Ez'Dryael begin play speaking Ezdril. Ez'Dryael with high Intelligence scores can choose from Common, Infernal, Celestial and Abyssal.
* Effective Character Level: Due their many traits and abilities, the Ez'Dryael are considered a Monstrous Race and, thus, they are considered +2 levels when calculating the Average Party Level of the group where they are. This adjusment lowers at 6th Level to +1 and disappears at 11th Level.

Defensive Racial Traits

* Subdermal Plating: Bizarre by nature, most of the Ez'Dryael body seems exposed and open to the point of appearing flayed or half-formed, but such is a mere aesthetic ruse, for a closer inspection reveals that, under the glossy and translucent skin that covers their apparent wounds, thick cartilage and bone strenghtened with fibers of carbon can be seen protecting them at several parts (specially on their broad ribs), making them far more resilient to punishment than what their visages would suggest, granting them a +2 Natural Armor bonus to Armor Class.
* Psionic Damage Reduction: The way in which The Seed Of Glory nurtures the body of an Ez'Dryael also keeps it cohesive, cushioning blows and damage with a subtle film of psionic force across every tissue, which can only be dissrupted through the use of weapons made of crystal, able to channel the energy on the strike, thus diverting said vital protection. This grants the Ez'Dryael Damage Reduction 10/Crystaline.
* Power Resistance: As the energy field from The Seed Of Glory helps the Ez'Dryael to maintain the otherwise frail composition of their physical forms, it also grants them a measure of protection against similar power manifestations used against them. This grants them an amount of Power Resistance equal to 11 plus their character level. (How PR interacts with magic depends on the way the rules of psionics/magic transparency are handled on a particular campaign).
* Regeneration: The result of inheriting The Fruit Of Life from their inhuman ancestors, the Ez'Dryael possess a surreal capacity for clinging to life despite sustaining wounds and damage at inordinate amounts. This is, in part, thanks to the fact the entire body of the sinfull scions is less heterogeneous in composition than that of most humanoids, made up of the very same cells everywhere, with it's basic building blocks ubiquituous and roaming freely on their blood, colored a dark purple due being iodine based. Bereft of heart or a closed circulatory system, the viscerae of an Ez'Dryael are inmersed on a pool of their own blood, making it easy for their tissues to be rebuilt quickly. However, when such damage is assessed as life-threatening by the Ez'Dryael's body, it's Seed Of Glory uses it's psichometabolic powers to transmute the raw compounds of it's blood into tissue at a dramatic speed. In fact, this measure is so efficient that, as long as The Seed Of Glory remains intact, it is capable of regenerating an entire body from scratch given enough time and material in a radius of 5 feet (usually transmuting the nearby gore or other disscarded parts of the mangled body in the process if available). This astounding ability grants the Ez'Dryael Regeneration 2 (Crystaline), rendering them impervious to death by hit point damage as long as their Regeneration keeps working and their Seed Of Glory keeps intact.

Feat & Skill Racial Traits

* Naturally Psionic: The result of inheriting The Fruit Of Knowledge from their human ancestors, the Ez'Dryael possess a human-like inquisitiveness and self-awareness that quickly allows them to realize the vast natural potential they have at their disposition. As a result they gain the Wild Talent feat as a bonus feat at 1st Level. If an Ez'Dryael takes levels in a psionic class, she instead gains the Psionic Talent feat.

Psionic Racial Traits

* Ego's Sanctum: Since their bodies are kept together and contained by the psychic energy created and radiated from their Seed Of Glory, most Ez'Dryael quickly learn how to project and harness the capacity of the psionic energies imbued in their bodies for defense or utility. This is specially important to them, as most Ez'Dryael consider their physical bodies untouchable sanctums for their mental selves and, thus focus on letting nobody to touch them without their consent as much as having the freedom to modify themselves as a true expression of their mental selves. Ez'Dryael with a Wisdom Score of at least 12 can manifest Force Screen and Minor Metamorphosis at will as psi-like abilities with a manifester level equal to their character level.

Senses Racial Traits

* Darkvision: As aberrations, Ez'Dryael see perfectly in the dark at 60 feet.

Weakness Racial Traits

* Seed Of Glory: The very core of the Ez'Dryael anatomy, and the replacement for their missing hearts, The Seed Of Glory is an small and round crystaline organ of violet color, roughly 20cm in diameter, and the source of most of the sinfull scions might and power. A potent and refined psicrystal on it's own, The Seed Of Glory keeps the otherwise frail and bizarre Ez'Dryael physiology together, energyzing every tissue through direct radiation, converting the free elements on the Ez'Dryael blood into nutrients and building blocks for it's cells as well as powering up it's natural psionic abilities. Rather visible under the translucent skin, however, this organ is also the Ez'Dryael sole and sore weak point, for while it can withstand severe pummeling, it is rather brittle once it's resistance is defeated, and a mere crack on it's crystal latice is all what it takes to render it unusable, thus instantly killing the Ez'Dryael (in most cases). This grants any attacker trying to confirm a critical hit against an Ez'Dryael a +4 Insight Bonus on such roll. Worst even, as their very essence is tied to this particular part of their bodies, any Ez'Dryael who is reduced to a negative amount of hit points below their Constitution Score by a critical hit cannot be raised or resurrected, as their inhuman souls disgregate along their bodies, which hastedly balloon and explode in an obscene shower of purplish viscerae and blood.

* Vainglorious: With an utter and almost absolute lack of interest and regard for the wellfare of beings outside of their own hybrid blood lines, the Ez'Dryael have a hard time dealing and relating to sentient beings of other species, appearing before them as aloof, rude, distant and inexcrutable. This imposes a penalty of -4 to Diplomacy, -2 to Bluff, and -2 to Sense Motive, since the sinfull scions are way too concerned with themselves and absorbed on their own elucubrations for like putting much thought or attention to beings incapable of direct mental imaging and communication.

- The Writer.

Homebrew Rules & Expansions: Incarnum Ziggurat (New Improvement for Pathfinder's Kingdom Building System)

A facility designed to be a sort of "flytrap" for unbound spirits and raw incarnum. While most undead creatures have no real bodily needs, some necromancers have learned to harness the raw energy from which souls are made as a resource of it's own. This protomatter, known as incarnum, can be used as an alternative to polarized energy in order to heal and mend the body of an undead creature, worn down by natural degradation and weathering, as well as to boost many necromantic spells and reanimation processes. Unfortunatelly, the process of syphoning the natural currents of soul stuff deplete the animating force from the landscape, creating a noticeable and particularly virulent blight upon the territory and it's adjacent terrains.

Hex Share: Yes
Terrain: Wasteland
Effect: Consumption decreases by 2 BP on undead settlements. Necromancy spells cast on a hex that contains this terrain improvement increase their Caster Level and Saving Throw DC in +1. Adjacent hexes are, eventually, turned into Wasteland (Hunting Grounds) after an amount of time equal to their preparation time has passed since the construction of this improvement.
Cost: 4 BP
Upgrades to: Incarnum Tower

The Writer.