(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

of sun-baked clay brick," he scoffs, "Even the Sen-Tau Wanderers that call
themselves the People of Ileron will admit it, as much as they like to claim
that they dream of a city of gold and crystal. If you claim to come from the
mythical paradise of Ileron, much less the world of Sen-Tau, then you're
twice as barmy as the pirate."
"I have heard of Sen-Tau," Scii-Tavakis murmurs, gazing into the obsidian
point of her spear, "A desert world, so barren that it would make Athas look
like a lush paradise."
"But I am Ileron," the man's lips peel back into a cold grin, "For I was once
the city itself."
A stubborn denial seems to form on Epetrius' lips, but he merely resigns
himself to shaking his head.
Ileron nods in approval at the silence, and begins.
"Lo, I have had many names across the ages: Shangri-La, El-Dorado,
Es-Annon, Tir Na nOg... but the oldest and truest of them all is Ileron, for
even though I no longer stand on the world of Sen-Tau how could humanity
not dream of the Palace of Ten Thousand Suns? The Arch of Crystal Dreams?
Who could forget the Coullan Wings that swam through the skies, ferrying
people along avenues of pure hope?
"At dawn the morning winds would blow through the Spires of Harmony,
and I sang my denizens to wakefulness. At dusk the kiss of twilight would fall
upon the Silvered Quarters and I lay my people to rest. Sweetwater flowed
free through the aqueducts and they were my veins. Polished golden marble
shone by day and glowed by night, and the walls and buildings were my
bones. Every hour the Citadels rang their bells and the priests sang paeans
of joy over their lives, and the resonance of their prayers was the beating of
my heart. The gods themselves smiled on my libraries and temples, blessed
the smallest inn and dimmest alley, for all Ileron was utopia. It was the city
of dreams.
"Can you imagine, then, the sheer boredom that a city such as I would
suffer? To be the shell of such rejoicing, but never partake? To be the
boundary and border, but never to know the adventure of crossing one? I
was both prison and prisoner, paradise and purgatory.
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