<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/2d/Chin_wei-lun.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Chin Wei-Lun<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The rougher’s diamond.<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Li-Li<br/><hr/>"Ziujiao," he said again, using the word like it was Li-Li's new nickname, "before we dance through all the details - you should know, I do not think this arrangement can work in the long term.  Nor will my fisherman."<br/><br/>His hands were in a kind of constant motion.  They rubbed together, the fingers threaded between one another, they rubbed and cracked over his knuckles.  As still and semi-serene as the rest of him seemed, his hands had a boundless energy, and his knuckles were cracked and scarred, many times over, the backs of his hands a match for the callouses of hard labor on the inside of his hands.<br/><br/>He gave an apologetic smile.  "The miner wants to mine.  Or at least... let others mine, freely.  But the fisherman... he works for a woman, who works for a man... and that man has given orders for Gomorra.    Simple orders, yet difficult to accomplish."<br/><br/>He gestured out to the Rougher's Diamond, the tent-city of Soddom, the thousands of miners who made temporary camp atop the plateau.<br/><br/>"Those orders are - stop the mining in Gomorra."  He paused, licking his lips, his hands finally coming to a stop, and settling atop his knees.  "Stop the mining in Gomorra, or kill everyone."<br/><br/>The way he said the second was cold, distant.  He did not like the notion - but there was a fatalistic resignation, a certainty he might well have to do exactly as he said.<br/><br/>Overhead, a hawk screeched and circled, then flew off towards the east.