John woke up and tried to rise from his nest of blankets. Then he discovered the reason why people did stretches before resting after a day of strenuous activity: he could hardly stand. Every major muscle group, and most of the minor, was cramped and painful. After a cringing morning of ginger calishthenics and some instant oatmeal, John was ready to start learning the Vulgar Arcane language.

First he reached out for that mental space the Pure Spirit inheritance library was resting. Then he concentrated on the gibberish call number that had been impressed into his teacher’s final communique. At first, nothing happened, but as he focused harder he could feel… a sort of resonance.that was responding to his focus. The harder he thought the call number, the clearer the associated file’s location became. Soon he had found the memory, a brief written synopsis, the call number, and then a large chunk that John was somewhat unsure of how to access. He kept turning it and poking it with his thoughts, until he thought he felt a channel that his consciousness could catch hold of and then…

“Oof.” John grunted as her thin legs jarred against a thin rug over a stone floor, looking up to see a tired looking man turn and face her, a series of figures displayed on the slate board behind him. He first gestured to her ears, then to the first of the squiggles on the slate with a rod, clearing his throat as he exagerattedly sounded “Ohhh.” She just stared at him confusedly as he repeated the gesture, then flinched as his rod swung out, stopping just shy of her jaw. He prodded it a few times meaningfully, then pointed at the board again. “Ah!” She said, then flushed and repeated his intonation. He handed her a slate and some chalk, and pointed at the figure, rolling his eyes as she repeated the sound again and this time the rod poked her fingers. She drew the squiggle, repeating the sound just in case. He nodded approvingly, then pointed to the next in the sequence, which was similar but had a new shape in front. “Bohh.” Another slight chinge: “Poh.” This time the change was under the original squiggle: “Moh”

On it went until all the consonant sounds had been paired with the “oh’ sound, then the sequence repeated, gaining speed, then the teacher changed things up, altering the sequence, and she fell apart, earning a firm rap on her shoulder….

…dislodging John from the memory, and allowing him to double check his tackle to be sure of no lingering effects. He tried to recreate the symbols he had seen, and when he had fully plumbed his recall, began the lesson again.

His life fell into this routine for the next week: Calisthenics in the morning and a light breakfast, a break at midday to do a little exercise, and some reading or carving before stretching, washing up, and dreaming of syllabary.

When he wasn’t engaging the inheritance, he was practicing on the samples of writing he had collected. As he did he began to notice the differences in how the more formal documents, like the maps or the two or three sparkly ones with fancy seals held subtle variations that probably settled for fancy fonts, where the personal missives were a little looser, forming a kind of cursive or short hand that was REALLY FUCKING HARD for John to puzzle out, which was frustrating as he knew that would probably be the most common style, as it was more expedient. But he kept at it, and 8 days later he could sound out the texts fluidly, the syllabary completely internalized, Now he just needed a vocabulary and some basic syntax!

Progress here was much slower, but as the weeks collected John’s meager vocabulary took shape as the very tired teacher, long turned to dust, imparted the essential 400 words to which a developing language user would hang their hats. The most important phrase of all, of course, being “How do you say that?” followed swiftly by, “Could you repeat that?”

But with his supplies dwindling John knew it was time to survey his surroundings, With sufficient mastery to ape out a caveman style dialogue, John felt confident that if he had to negotiate a conversation with a local he’d be ok.

After reaching this resolution he proceeded to procrastinate by tidying everything up and packing up an overnight bag.

So intent on his preperations was John that he did not notice the strange shadows that played across the wall from the high window by the door.

“Alright, I’m all set! Adventure, Hooo!” John cried out as he flung the door bar up, turned the still locking mechanism, then kicked open the heavy double doors as hard as he could.

A decision he immediately regretted when he felt the wood crunch into someones nose before jarring his knee, causing John to stumble back, his cursing keeping synchronicity with the man whose nose he’d just broken.

John trailed off into silence as he took in the 4 silhouettes outlined by the evening sun, with a fifth sitting on the broken flagstones clutching his face,

John mustered a weak smile and said, in his best Vulgar Arcane. “Hello! You’re trespassing. What do you want?”

---------------------

Auriean could hardly believe their luck. In this manaless flyspeck of a city-state they'd found an Old Imperium way station! The signs were obvious now, but until they'd come within the last 50 rods he was sure they'd been chasing a wild vere.

"Those doors are solid Void Steel!" Garrus chortled beside him, "And look! the crystal window is netted with it. No wonder it was undiscovered all these years! No matter how dense the mana in the building not a trace would leak out. That prick of a city lord, Jealan, didn't even know that tattered map in his study hinted at such a treasure! Really takes the sting out the past few days, doesn't it, Kerris?"

Kerris didn't even try to hide her smug grin from Garrus. Jealan had been her senior at the sect, and had tried to court her once. He clearly carried a grudge for being turned down, and had fined her and her company 5 whole bars of silver for, "disturbing the peace of the city," for resisting when his dogs of a militia had tried to steal their valuable beast skins as 'trade tarriffs.' When they tried to fight back he had surpressed them all with his higher apprentice level cultivation, and once again tried to pressure her into bed. Little did he know that while Jealan was showing off his wealth, Alikir would by chance see the old symbol for Imperial property marked in the Empty Hills.

She turned to Millat, who had been quietly scouting for sentry wards or signs of beasts. Millat gave the all clear with a grin. "Well, what are you waiting for man! Pop that door open and lets see what we've found!"

"Yes, Captain!" He pulled his probes from his belt case and approached the door.

They gathered a few feet back to give Millat room and light. As he leaned into examine the lock, Garrus suddenly flinched and took a stance, calling urgently, "Millat! Wai-"

The door bounded open with a crash and the sound of broken cartilage and cursing. A youth limped back from the door rubbing his leg.

He was tall, almost 3.5 rods, and moved with a sense of solidity that spoke of muscles under his strange and thick garb. He had a pack on his back, and smiled wryly at us, ignoring Millat's groaning form.He seemed to think for a second, then spoke, saying. "Greetings and Salutations. Tresspassingly yous, What do want you?"

Rule#5- Always approach natives of your new plane with confidence, gentleness, and respect. That Slavering Tentacle Beast is just as scared of you as you are of it. Probably.