And Mordi randomly appears on top of a multi-story square building. It's made of a truly obscene amount of glass, with rice fields stretching on far, far away, before reaching another similar square building, the buildings connected by densely-packed dirt roads. The sun, heat and humidity is stifling; it's utterly miserable to stay outside in this heat.

Mordi hits the roof with a grunt of pain, bits of debris from the ruined mountain cabin clattering around him. Its shocking, to still be alive and (he looks down at himself to check) intact after that. He pushes himself to his feet unsteadily only to receive another shock. The impossible glass buildings dotting the endless ricefields. Did he somehow send himself to Azmur? They ate a lot of rice there, he'd read, but he'd have thought the towers made of glass would have made it in the book before the rice would.

Hes on top of one of those buildings, isn't he? That... probably counts as trespassing, if this place is owned by some big important noble, and it'd almost have to be. That wouldn't be so bad, if he was somewhere familiar he'd just show his company badge and plead magical accident, but who knows how they react to trespassers *here*? He'll just quietly look for a way down and then ask someone for help on one of those probably public streets down there.

And tug off his jacket. Gods its hot, and he is definitely not dressed for it. If there isnt a way down is there at least shade?

Shouting gives no response for just over a two minutes. Then somebody climbs up a hatch in the floor of the building, a young man who's looking at Mordi in silence and total confusion.

He'll see a brown haired young man wearing about half a set of hand made winter gear, the rest of it in a bundle near his feet. He looks rather worse for wear: underfed, scraped, bruised, with a bigger cut across his left palm, turning a bit red in the heat after failing to find a way down and being reduced to shouting. There is also a large knife at his hip, if the person in the hatch is watching for weapons.

He hurries over to the hatch, grabbing his bundle of clothes with his non injured hand. "Ah, hello there. I apologize for being on your master's roof? It was an accident and I didn't intend to be here." He doesn't really expect to be understood, but he tries to make his tone as calm as he can. 
 

The person opening the roof stares at Merdi for several more seconds. "... You can come in. I don't think you deserve blame for showing up here." Walking down the hatch reveals a massive room open room, adjacent to a few smaller rooms hidden behind rooms. There's a few kitchen appliances, and some workout equipment in one area of the room, but mostly seems to be a very big living room.

Mordi tromps down the stairs behind this person, looking around the wide room with bafflement. He doesn't recognize any of the strange machines but they sure are impressive.

"Thanks" he murmurs "My name's Mordi. I'm a journeyman illuminator with the Southcliff Trading Company." Maybe that actually means something, if they speak Imperial here! 

"Yeah, I have no idea of what you or those are. Where were you before you showed up on my roof, if you'd care to tell me?"

Oh. He may be rather farther afield than he'd feared. 

"I was in the a high pass over the Falconer mountains. I was attacked by a rock lizard and ended up hiding in a hut along the side of the road. It found me and started pounding on the door, so I tried using a summoning spell I'd read about, just to call anything that could save me. Better than getting eaten, probably?" he grimaces. "Something went wrong with the spell as it reached out to the planes. I felt it snap. Then I landed on your roof."

He licks his lips. "thats the short version anyway. I'd gladly trade the longer version for something to drink? My waterskin was on my pack." If he isn't being arrested, maybe this is more of a hospitality situation.

"I can make you some tea, if you wish? But... you said you just did a lot of impossible things. You realize that, right?" He starts heading off towards one of the kitchen appliances, ready to start on the tea if the stranger wants some.

"Anything cold would be great." he says. 

and that sinking feeling about being far from home gets worse. "Could you be more specific? Fouling up a spell when you've never practiced it or been trained on it is extremely possible, as far as I know."

"Something cold, you say?" He takes an ice cube tray out of the fridge next to the cupboard he was about to get some tea from, and sends the some of the cubes through a shaved ice machine, creating a very finely shredded pile of sand inside the blue and green mug, before adding a few drops of the cola flavoring. Then he fills the mug with water, creating an extremely cool and incredibly flavorful drink for Mordi to enjoy.

That has to be some kind of enchanted frost cabinet to keep ice in a place as hot as this. Come to think of it, its a lot cooler in here than you would think it would be just coming inside. Well, if you're rich enough to live in a giant tower made of glass, it follows you'd spend some of your riches making the place nice to stay in.

He accepts the mug with a smile, drinks.

Coughs. What the hells? Its so sweet, like drinking a cup of melted candy, and it bites his tongue. But the icy chill does help his parched throat. He sips again, more tentatively, and its a lot more pleasant when he knows what to expect. "Thank you."

The man looks at Mordi. "Happy to help! Now, well. You said you're an illuminator, what does that mean, and what do you do?"

Mordi drains about half his mug, sighs in relief, and starts talking again.

"So, one of the magical rituals known in my homeland is one for copying books. Its really important. Instead of someone having to slave over parchment for days to make one copy of something you can just get a big pile of parchment and ink, do the ritual, and have dozens of copies. Discovering it changed all kinds of things about society." He raises a finger. "the big problem is, one of the reagents for the more well known version of the spell is a drop of the author's blood. Authors might not want to work full time churning out copies of their books, and they can only be in one place, or sometimes they're dead."

"But the company has their own version of the spell. Its a bit looser and will accept blood from anyone who contributed to the book in some sense. Illuminators copy a book and illustrate it, add decorations to the margins, lay out the text artfully instead of efficiently, that kind of thing. If they do enough of that, then they count for the spell and they can provide the drop when using the ritual on their copy." He starts the explanation with enthusiasm, but by the end his smile has faded and he looks rather sad.

"and... my books are sitting abandoned in my cart. Shit." 

"We can do all that without needing blood or magic! Unless those books can do something really amazing, I think your skills are rather obsolete at this point."