KORBIN
Remember when I swore
That you and I would never die
That you and I would never die
Korbin gave the other man a look, half confused, half amused. Chulane sure seemed enthusiastic about work not a sentiment Korbin shared, no matter the plans he was forming.
"Chulane... you are aware that Halo never thaws, right? The only things that grow here are raised by magic. The temperature never rise above freezing, and the snow never melts. There is no soil to improve on." It's why Halo was so desolate, why the Tundra was so dangerous and the cannibals had come to exist. Whatever the luxere were able to scrape away of lichen and bark from the frozen forests around the base of the Fangs was not fit for humans to eat, and between the roaming predators and the cold, there just wasn't enough food to go around for everyone.
The thought was probably good, and maybe it could be done in tandem with Loren's idea of greenhouses, but it remained a pipe dream for now.
He hummed something unintelligible about Neron and his predicament, and frowned slightly at the question about Sunjata. Korbin had a vague recollection of spilling the secret of Weaver's dealings, and regretted ever opening his mouth.
"He is an official of Torchline, for one. Put a dagger to my throat the first time we ever met, just for startling him, for another. He's an arrogant asshole without a care for who gets affected by his dealings, and - " he hesitated, but having already told Chuy about this, pressed on anyway "- he used Weaver for information on Halo. Anyone visiting the bar. The deal was supplies for secrets, and that's how Weaver got hold of so much good alcohol. It's all from Torchline and the Hollowed Ground, where the guy has another bar."
Korbin frowned down at his hands, fingers tapping restlessly against the armrests.
"Chulane... you are aware that Halo never thaws, right? The only things that grow here are raised by magic. The temperature never rise above freezing, and the snow never melts. There is no soil to improve on." It's why Halo was so desolate, why the Tundra was so dangerous and the cannibals had come to exist. Whatever the luxere were able to scrape away of lichen and bark from the frozen forests around the base of the Fangs was not fit for humans to eat, and between the roaming predators and the cold, there just wasn't enough food to go around for everyone.
The thought was probably good, and maybe it could be done in tandem with Loren's idea of greenhouses, but it remained a pipe dream for now.
He hummed something unintelligible about Neron and his predicament, and frowned slightly at the question about Sunjata. Korbin had a vague recollection of spilling the secret of Weaver's dealings, and regretted ever opening his mouth.
"He is an official of Torchline, for one. Put a dagger to my throat the first time we ever met, just for startling him, for another. He's an arrogant asshole without a care for who gets affected by his dealings, and - " he hesitated, but having already told Chuy about this, pressed on anyway "- he used Weaver for information on Halo. Anyone visiting the bar. The deal was supplies for secrets, and that's how Weaver got hold of so much good alcohol. It's all from Torchline and the Hollowed Ground, where the guy has another bar."
Korbin frowned down at his hands, fingers tapping restlessly against the armrests.
Remember when you swore
we had it all?
we had it all?
