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t o p a z a r � t e
-> loving life with sultan <- -> ambassador of all that is Hawk <-

The uncommon man is merely the common man thinking and dreaming of success in larger terms and in more fruitful areas. He finds beauty in the broken things of this world, and works tirelessly to preserve their hidden majesty. He believes that what oxygen is to the lungs; such is hope to the meaning of life. He aims high to hit his target, and so often does. He finds solace not in his own voice, but in the comforting tones of his mother, his father, his lover, his friends, his sisters, his brothers. He leads and he follows united as one with his peers, and relaxes into the medium strip that is toleration. Why do we not listen to the uncommon man? What had gone would never be fully recovered. The order and way that Nefarious had been used to would not easily be reclaimed. It was futile, and she realised at last what had been, and what was occurring. It blew her away like a feather in a sand storm, and scarred her determination to aid the Meadow. The truth was that she knew naught of what Hawkmeadow had been, and therefore could not aid in the restoration of its glory. But there was something that irked her more. The fact that Nefarious was not being listened to, and thus she leant a steady ear toward him. Through the mist she came, brumous and foggy as it was, whipped into motion by the determination of many zephyrs that honed through the meadow and the crest. The task that set herself was simple, and she felt that he � one of the oldest members of the Meadow � may be able to aid her in it. It saddened her to know what had been, but perhaps� just perhaps, in her lifetime she would know it in the physical form. The thirst for knowledge she possessed in her childhood made itself present anew, and a warm clarion is uttered to his regal and wizened form. To those that can dream there is no such place as faraway. Topaz was, without a doubt, a dreamer. The glory that Hawkmeadow had once possessed would be returned, and the distance between then and now would be engulfed slowly but surely, though it would take much time and effort. Those who were not eager to lend a hand simply were not fit to represent all that was Hawk, and therefore should not be standing within the meadow�s hallowed borders. Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all. So why would they give up? Her movement is slowed upon reaching the Guard, whom she found new respect for. Her tone is light, but never condescending. �Hail once more, Nefarious, it has been a long time since we have spoken, but this time I have an ulterior motive. It is widely known that you knew Hawkmeadow in its better days, that you knew Rosemary as a neophyte. My query is simple in essence; what was it like?�