June 4th, 2004

Mask

Israyell, Origins

Israyell spent half his life trying, and failing, to fix ships. He just didn’t have the mind for it. He knew the basics of repair, could follow instructions and loved the idea of living on a station, meeting travelers and doing something solid with his hands, but he just wasn’t any good. Ships didn’t speak to Israyell the way they seemed to speak to other engineers. It was frustrating to be working on a ship spending twice as long as anyone else and half the time researching whats wrong with an annoyed customer waiting, tentacles tapping.






Not surprisingly, he lost business, till his only returning customers were coming because they liked him, and not because they needed his services. Quite naturally and without any remarkable adventure all things changed for Israyell. A group of his regulars asked if they could part their ship in his dock; no, nothing needed to be fixed, they’d pay just to park, and oh, would is be possible to use the back room for a meeting, and is there a place they could plug in this anti-listening device?

They paid well enough for Israyell to keep his shop open even without ships to fix. Israyell thought they were smugglers or pirates, but if that was so he couldn’t dream what cargo would fit in a ship that small and how it would bring so much income. Israyell, while not good with ships was amazing with people. They opened up to him, he was friendly and easy to confess too. It was the same, every time; personal problems, at first, but those things always flow over to work, and after a few conversations where omissions became, in themselves confessions, Israyell began to believe that they were assassins.





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