Broan was a large city, composed of two tiers. The outer, for the impoverished, and the inner wall for the nobles and wealthy. At the center of the city stood the palace, a large obelisk that could be viewed from miles away. Chan'i stared at the palace as she and her kin walked through the tiers of Broan. It seemed almost oppressive, towering over the surrounding areas, as if to remind them of their place. Chan'i shuddered. She didn't like this place. There were carts and shops lining the streets, but not a soul was to be seen, other than an occasional stare from an accusing pair of eyes through a window. Black clothes hung from nigh every window and door, proclaiming the terrible toll the plague had inflicted. "I don't like this place." Chan'i voiced her thoughts in a whisper, her voice seeming to echo through the abandoned streets. She looked to the other Fauns for reassurance. One looked back, and shared with her a worried glance, but none spoke. They all jumped as they passed through the palace gates, and the silence was broken by a fanfare of trumpets. Chan'i's eyes widened as she entered the courtyard. It was full of people of all ages, races, and genders. She saw three large creatures standing in solitude at the back of the courtyard, and wondered who or what they were. She stopped moving as Terel gestured at them, and walked alone to where the other leaders stood. Terel was young to lead, being only twenty-four, but his wisdom surpassed that of the great elders. On his head were a long spiraling pair of horns, the envy of the male population, and the desire of all the female. (Chan'i included.) As Terel approached, the king Elthidius bowed, and spread his arms in welcome. "I am so glad that you could come, noble Faun. Please forgive my ignorance, I am not versed in the world outside my kingdom, and know not your name." "I am Terel." He said with a curt nod, "I have brought five with me." And enough food to feed us all no doubt. Chan'i turned to where the voice had originated from, and gasped as she saw a giant blue specter wolf, grinning at Terel, and drooling from its pointed maw. "Silence Zin." Spoke another voice, and Chan'i saw a tall nondescript figure standing next to the wolf, "You shall have to pardon Zin, he doesn't know what is and is not appropriate to say to others." The wolf grinned even further, and sat down upon its haunches. "Now." Elthidius said, shaking his head slightly, and turning to face the crowd, "I'm sure you are all aware of why I have called you, so I shall not make you wait any longer. Now that all the parties have arrived, I shall go get the monk."
Name: Anniette (Annie) Kaspara Race: Human Age: 29 Sex: Female Appearance: Annie is taller than the average human female, standing at about 5'8". She has long black hair that is usually tied back in a ponytail, and electric blue eyes. She wears a white gown during her work and experiments, and has rounded spectacles with dark, metallic frames and thin lenses made from crystal. People generally deem her beautiful, with her soft features and almost pristine, fair skin, but she doesn't try to look it. Aura: White Clothing/Equipment: During experiments and work, she wears white gowns, but otherwise dresses in the fashions of the aristocrats, although this is only because she is expected to fit into this society. She makes sure that even these clothes look as plain as they can - she has no desire for material goods. When she is out on missions or research, she makes sure to wear her chainmail tunic for protection, and carries around a baselard with a 25" blade. Short Bio: Annie was born into a family of respected physicians within the city of Broan, and was the first female to take up the profession. Her schooling included medicine, astrology, and religion. With medicine having such a close tie to religion, and especially with the god Remu, Annie is also a devout worshipper. Her father and two brothers both work as physicians, but unlike her, they choose to ignore everything that is going on with the plague. Annie started researching and experimenting, trying to find a cure for the plague when she was twenty years old. It is then that she met her one and only love - Yves Kaspara, an enthusiast who was passionate about the same thing. However, Yves also had a passion for something else - magic. He wished to became an Elementi, and while Annie found this disturbing at first, she soon came around to the idea and benefit of it. Together they began to master the element of blood in secrecy, and were married three years later. Then, tragically, three years ago, during a mission to obtain research material, Yves was infected with the plague, and Annie had no option but to slay the one person she loved. After, she vowed to continue with their research and hopes to be able to one day ascend and become an Elementi, for the both of them. Personality: Annie is very serious, and likes to keep to herself, but she is never judgemental or dismissive. She is very curious and will give her full attention to almost any subject or task. Miscellaneous info: Annie is very open-minded, and she especially likes magic. She has only met a few magi throughout her travels, and has always been comforted by their presence. She is also fond of any sort of intellectual, but dislikes snobby people, like her relatives and most other nobles of Broan.
Name: Chan'i Short-Horn Race: Faun Age: 18 Sex: Female Appearance: Chan'i is short, thin, reedy, and flat-chested; the complete opposite of what a female Faun should be. (Most are rather fat from their gluttonous life-style. Male Fauns seek the largest female for their mate, as their size is an indication of their skills at cooking.) Chan'i has short wavy golden-brown hair, that is usually in a tight ponytail at the back of her head. Her face is thin and angled, with a long nose, and freckled cheeks. Her eyes are a dull yellow, with the horizontal pupils of a goat. She has long droopy ears, and a minute pair of horns on the top of her brow. Aura: Yellow Clothing/Equipment: Chan'i wears a long sleeveless pink shirt, that ties in the front, and falls half-way down her hips. She wears a white cord belt at her waist, with a small bag of medicinal herbs, and seasonings for food. She has a pair of leather vambraces on her otherwise bare arms. She has a pack of clothes, blankets, and cooking supplies at her back. She has no weapons, but wields a long walking-stick. Short Bio: The last name of a Faun is less of a sirname, and more of a title. In this case, "Short-Horn" is an insult against Chan'i's figure. The name "Short-Horn" is also an insult against male Fauns, by suggesting that they are cowards. Chan'i has never fit in with the other female Fauns. She cannot cook a propper meal, she is not strong, and has not gotten a mate since reaching Faun adulthood (13). When the missive arrived from the human-realm, Chan'i decided to go to escape the ridicule from her kin. While Fauns typically don't let females go on dangerous tasks, they all view Chan'i as "bad seed", and are more than happy to let her venture out into the world. Personality: Most all Fauns are skittish, and get uncomfortable around outsiders. Chan'i's skittishness is so great that it debilitates all her interactions. She has great trouble mustering the courage to speak to someone, even one she knows. Despite her shyness, she is very loyal, and will follow a friend wherever they ask her to go. Miscellaneous info: Chan'i loves music above all else, and knows all the traditional Faun ballads by heart. She also has a great love of stews. As far as dislikes, she doesn't like large groups of people, or loud noises, particularly shouting. ----------------------------------------- Name: Qarkar Tic Race: Gnome Age: 30 Gnome years (15 human) Sex: Male Appearance: Qarkar has a round, brown, furry protruding face, with a flat red nose. The fur on his face has two black streaks for eyebrows, over a pair of tiny black beady eyes. He also has some overgrown blackish fur around his face, forming a kind of beard. On the top of his head is a large mop of brown fur for hair, and large round ears. He is average in height for a Gnome, approximately 2 feet tall. His arms are short and stubby, though muscular, and his legs similar. He is quite fat for a Gnome, and his girth hangs over his waist. Aura: Brown Clothing/Equipment: He wears a large red cap, with a rounded top, as all Gnomes do above ground. He sports a blue tunic, the buttons of which are always strained by his belly. On his hands he wears a thick pair of moleskin gloves. He also wears a pair of moleskin pants, with a custom made belt to fit his size, with a ruby fixed to the buckle. He carries a large pack upon his shoulders full of mostly non-perishable foods. Strapped to his pack is a shovel, which he considers a suitable weapon. Short Bio: Qarkar is an excavator, and digs the extensive maze-like tunnels through the Hrond'il hills for his people. While he is capable of controling the earth, he prefers to get "down and dirty", and uses his shovel to dig. The result being that he is one of the strongest among his people. (Most use their powers to avoid doing things themselves.) Qarkar was disturbed by the effect the plague had on his people, and was the first to volunteer to go when the missive came. He is engaged at home to the lovely Kikchi, and will wax eloquent about her to any who will listen. Personality: Qarkar is jolly, and will laugh at the poorest joke, if only for the sake of laughing. Dispite his happy exterior, he is quick to temper, and is a blatant competitor. He will turn any activity into a game, and has every intention of winning. Miscellaneous info: Along with his love of food, he also enjoys such activities as mole hunting (an immensely popular Gnome activity), and fishing in the underground lakes. Along with his love of food, he also enjoys such activities as mole hunting (an immensely popular Gnome activity), and fishing in the underground lakes.
Name: Pytt Race: Human Age: 20-25 (Exact age unknown, even by himself. His tribe makes no effort to record the passing of years) Sex: Male Appearance: Pytt has a protuberant, almost beak-like nose and fierce, dark eyes. His long, black hair is kept in a braided ponytail. Pytt's most striking feature is his skin color: a distinct reddish-brown a shade darker than most. On his right forearm is tattooed a single line of black ink, snaking from elbow to wrist in a tangled, abstract design. Aura: amber Clothing/Equipment: In an effort to conform to the society around him (and to avoid disconcerting stares), Pytt has abandoned his tribe's usual minimalistic wear for "normal" clothing. Unfortunately, due to his ignorance of this new style of clothing, he often dresses himself improperly. He usually wears a simple cotton shirt - backwards and/or inside-out - and canvas pants. He still refuses to wear shoes, however, and insists on always going barefoot. Pytt prefers to live off the land when on the trail and thus carries limited provisions. Nevertheless, he still carries a bladder canteen, a handmade bone knife, and a steel machete - a weapon he begrudgingly began to wield only after his old wooded sword broke in two. Short Bio: Pytt was born and raised in a primitive tribe, far to the south in the "uninhabited" parts of the world. Though he has long since reached manhood physically, he has yet to be fully accepted as an adult in his tribe due to his inability to hunt and kill his spirit animal. (His tribe has a belief about this, which I will explain if ever any other characters ask him) Knowing only that his spirit animal does not dwell anywhere in his homeland, Pytt has journeyed far to the north in search of it. Over the years, he has begun to forge a career for himself assisting expeditions such as these; the wilderness survival skills of his tribe making him an invaluable resource. Having heard King Elthidius' missive, Pytt was quick to volunteer partly out of concern for those dying, but also greatly out of desire to explore yet another unknown land in search of his beast. Personality: Though Pytt often wears a fierce expression, this is more out of feelings of discomfort in his still-unfamiliar surroundings than actual anger. When on his own in nature, he tends to soften up. Miscellaneous info: Pytt has a limited mastery of the common tongue, ergo his sentences are often short and broken. He is very stubborn and does not take to changes well, however he dislikes ostracism more and will sometimes conform to a standard if he feels he is the only one against it.
Name: Etri Race: Gnome Age: 26 (13 human) Sex: Male Appearance: Etri is average height for a Gnome, standing at 2"3. He has a cat like face but without whiskers. His face is a dark black with crescent shaped white patches over his eyes. Aura: Green Clothing/Equipment: His head is adourned with a large sombraero like hat. He wears a simple outfit consisting of a tight fitting robe and goggles. He carries a pickaxe to help with tunneling and moving the earth. Etri is never seen without his pet boar and mount Tusk. Short Bio: Etri was the kings head tunneler, helping to evacuate villages and cities from plague carriers, and was sent to assist the other races in finding a cure for the plague. He lost most of his family to the plague and hopes to save others from the same fate. Personality: Etri is headstrong but caring. He has a tendency to think before acting and has no problem with fighting dirty (litteraly) or doing whatever's neccesary to acomplish his task. Miscellaneous info: Likes honey and anything sweet; can't stand daylight or heights.
Name: Madeline Hyll Race: Human Age: 24 Sex: Female Appearance: Madeline is six feet tall, with broad shoulders and long, fairly muscular limbs. Her light brown hair is kept back in a low ponytail, tied by a dark blue ribbon at all times. She isn't particularly pretty, with an oval face and a noticeably large, beak-like nose. Her eyes are brown and never seem to open all the way, and she has very thick eyebrows. Aura: green Clothing/Equipment: Madeline wears a royal blue, knee-length coat, fitted at the waist and trimmed with gold. Beneath that, a white dress shirt with a dark purple cravat and pale yellow waistcoat. She also wears white breeches trimmed with gold thread, and black buckled shoes. At her hip she carries a cutlass and small hunting knife, and a silver spyglass. There is a hidden pocket on the inside of her coat, with emergency money. Short Bio: She was born the eldest of three girls to a middle-class tailor in a village bordering the Dar Hills. Her parents expected her to inherit their family shop, but it became evident very early on that Madeline was just not meant to be a dress-maker. She spent most of her childhood helping her father, a very meek, scholarly man, with manual labor around the house. After a sudden growth spurt in her teen years, Madeline towered over the little man, and began to wonder if she was suited for the life of a simple village girl. Having heard stories of heroes and adventurers all her life, she left home at sixteen, and was promptly robbed of all of her possessions in the neighboring village. Determined not to go home a failure, she traveled Errilia taking odd jobs, and fell in with a band of treasure-hunters. For several years she stayed with them, learning what she could, until the plague broke out in a town they were passing through, and the band was scattered. Madeline searched, but could find no sign of any of them, and feared the worst. She returned to her home village for a while, to see that her family was all right. Luckily, no harm had come to them. Madeline stayed only briefly, until she met Romyar, and took him in as her assistant. He was more or less her excuse for leaving home again, as she felt guilty abandoning her family in such dark times, but felt restless living in such a quiet village. Personality: Madeline appears to be a perpetually calm, almost dopey person. Her default expression is a sleepy smile, and it takes a lot to upset her. She acts very gentlemanly towards others, especially women, and can be a bit too trusting. More than anything, she loves money, and tends to spend it frivolously on clothes, wine, and women. Madeline isn't an expert swordswoman, and therefor won't draw her blade unless absolutely necessary. She can hold her own in a physical confrontation, but prefers to try to talk her way out of trouble. Miscellaneous info: She isn't particularly smart, and can be easily fooled by a girl with big, doe eyes. She also isn't above fighting dirty in a pinch, and trusts Romyar more than anyone else. --- Name: Romyar Darig Race: Gnome Age: 18 gnome years (9 human) Sex: Male Appearance: Romyar is two feet tall, of average build for a gnome. He has short, reddish-brown fur and low-set, drooping ears. His face is long and thin, and his nose is small and black. He has black eyes, and wavy “hair” on top of his head, just a few shades darker than the rest of his fur. Aura: dark blue Clothing/Equipment: Romyar wears a short, black top-hat with a silver buckle, and copper, custom-made goggles mounted on its brim. He wears a white shirt and purple cravat, and a dark green overcoat that drags on the ground, and too-long sleeves that need to be constantly rolled up. His pants are black-and-grey striped, with a wide, dark brown belt with a copper buckle, and dark brown boots. He carries a silver pocket-watch at all times. Romyar is in charge of carrying Madeline's pack, which is filled with dried foods, spare clothes, and basic supplies. The pack looks rather large on him, and he uses a long-handled hammer as a walking stick, to keep his balance while carrying it. Short Bio: Like many gnomes, most of Romyar's family was lost to the plague. He himself just barely survived when the outbreak came to his home in the Dar Hills. Romyar managed to escape into a nearby human village, and there he met the Hyll family. They took pity on him, and allowed him to stay in a tiny, back room in their dress shop. For weeks he did not speak, and helped with small chores around their shop to pay for his lodging. Not long afterward, Madeline returned home, and after drowning their sorrows in a shared bottle of wine, Romyar began to speak again. His control of the earth makes him a useful ally in uncovering treasures, and Madeline instantly took him under her wing. When the king sent out his missive, it was Romyar's idea to take it, having seen the effects of the plague first-hand. Personality: Romyar is quiet, and gives the impression of being very timid. But, when he does speak, he is blunt to the point of rudeness. He's very observant, and tends to be reserved around those he doesn't know. He likes to give the impression that he is a cool, serious person, but has a tendency to jump to conclusions and get wound up over nothing. Romyar is very neat and orderly, and doesn't like to get dirty. Miscellaneous info: Romyar hates being picked up by anyone, for any reason. Though he isn't quick to trust others, he'll start to warm up to someone if they feed him something delicious.
Name: Cadence Perry Race: Human Age: 29 Sex: Male Appearance: Cadence could be considered handsome, though he is on the shorter side at a meager 5’7. He has long, cropped fair hair that often plasters to his forehead and large, oceanic eyes like two iridescent pearls. He has a swarthy complexion and reddened skin with a crooked nose from countless fistfights defending his honor or someone elses’. His jaw is powerful and defined, though his cheekbones are not annunciated. He has broad shoulders, a thick neck, and a wiry body composition otherwise. Aura: Teal Clothing/Equipment: Cadence wears a plate-mail cuirass on his torso, scaled breeches, and chain greaves. His helmet is often left off, but it is a fanciless, golden Y-shaped barbute. He also wears gloves, wrist guards, and a steel-winged mantle; each of which are standard issue to a royal protectorate. He has wields a long sword and rounded bulwark as well as a claymore. He has two knives sheathed in his pockets for emergencies and he wears a ruby pendant around his neck that his fiancé gave him when she moved to the capital city. Short Bio: Cadence was reared in the capital city of Broan from a noble line of explorers and seafarers and has lived there most of his life. As an adolescent he was an apprentice blacksmith until the last of his teen years. He then wished to follow in his father’s footsteps and explore distant lands; yet, this only made him realize how plagued the countries had become. He witnessed poverty, illness, doubt, and the death of his family during his travels and he then wished to do something about the lands that were plagued already, not discover more that were also affected. He retired his adventurer’s apparel, sold his family boat, and offered his services to the guard of the king and capital city. He was recognized quickly for his strategic brilliance and deftness with a sword and now lives closer to home than ever with his wife- working as a royal protectorate caring for the weak and plagued, all the while searching with an open mind for a cure. Personality: Cadence is trustworthy, loyal, and merciful. He never holds grudges and never lets himself get too close to those he knows, and treats everyone he can with the utmost respect until they give him a reason not to. He can always be counted on if he is given orders by those above him. He does have his downsides and fruitless habits however, such as taking untimely walks on his own and choosing to avoid social contact for extended periods of time. He tends to be awkward or oppressive at times; preaching dignity and decency to those who seem different from himself or indifferent altogether. He also has trouble talking of things that are not the weather, the plague, combat, or strategy. Only his wife to be Scarlet has managed to penetrate his barrier. Miscellaneous info: Cadence likes to be in control of situations and give orders to those who do not seem competent enough to act on their own. He enjoys doing things for himself instead of burdening others and sees himself as the most suitable man for a task. He dislikes men who are loud, rude, or bigots, and he dislikes women who are deceptive, sharp tongued, or lazy. He suffers from an alcohol problem that was picked up when he became an insomniac following his voyages.
Name: Eli Vayne Race: human Age: 20 Sex: male Appearance: Eli ihas long black hair which is always sticking up from his constantly playing with it. He has dark green eyes. He is tall and slightly muscular. He always wears dark clothes. Aura: bright red Clothing/Equipment: He does not wear nice clothes just a basic grey tunic, black pants. He has a gold lion pendant that looks like it could be worth some money. Short Bio: Eli was born in a village in Broan to a poor family. Being the only child the Vanes had Eli was expected to hunt and provide for his family at a young age. Yet his parents worried for Eli as he seemed to have no interest in taking up a profession of his own. He did not want to be a blacksmith like his father and he was not a gifted hunter. One day while Eli was out wandering the forest aimlessly like he always did Eli's parents were stricken with the plague and proceeded to violently kill each other. Unsure of what else to do, Eli fled. Personality: Eli has been alone since he was sixteen years old so he does not easily trust people. He's a bit lazy and would rather sleep in the shade of the trees than do manual work. He is kind of dramatic and likes to tell stories of his 'tragic life' in order to earn the sympathy he craves. The sympathy he feels he deserves. Miscellaneous info: Eli is very resentful of the nobles and people who have wealth because he was born with nothing. While Eli is prone to lie often he hates being lied to.
Name: Yossel Pickerton Race: Gnome Age: 22 Gnomish years Sex: male Appearance: At 2"2 he stands at an average height for a Gnome, perhaps a few inches taller than most. he is a little chubby around the belly but not excessively so. With pale skin like his mother, his face is covered a sparse black hair that more closely resembles a unruly beard and thick eyebrows than a Gnomish coat. He has large hazel eyes like his father, and in one furry ear is a stud earring with a blue stone set in silver. The other ear is partly missing Aura: pale blue Clothing/Equipment: Yossel has much love for clothing! he wears many layers - up to six at any one time. at the moment he wore a mixture of hand sewn shirts, around his neck hung the thin end of a shortened human tie that hung to his knees. A goat wool V-neck vest over that and then a rabbit skin jacket which was perfectly cut to hang an inch from the ground was worn over the whole lot. His blue pants were tattered at the ankles as they were too long for him and another yellow pair could be seen Through its hoes. On all these clothes Yossel has sewn many extra pockets and added pouches to his many belts so to keep the amazing things he finds on his journeys. He is constantly rationalising which object is better and which has to be dropped, and they are usually always full. Yossel like all Gnomes are sensitive to sunlight but instead of the cap traditionally worn, he prefers his small straw hat which had taken a beating over the last few years and was starting to fray. The hat was held on by a string that ran under his chin. Short Bio: Yossel was born into the Eastern mines on the mid level and grew up working with his father and 8 brothers shifting land with their power. Always more inquisitive than other Gnomes, yossel was constantly getting scolded for not paying attention as he studied some root or stone. on his 18th birthday he set out to see the world and was amazed at what was outside the tunnels. He return from this adventure to find the mines decimated by the plague. Many of his brothers and cousins had died slowly and painfully. the tunnels allowed the plague to spread quickly as all the gnomes were taken to living in close quarters. he left the tunnels for the big world. For almost a full year Yossel travelled with an old hermit who taught the young Gnome how to cook, the good and bad herbs, poisons and antidotes. and when the man could or would teach him no more, Yossel decided to leave. He learns very quickly and his thirst for knowledge of this big world is insatiable. Personality: Although Yossel is of a mature age for a Gnome, he is constantly looking for new and exciting things to add to his pockets. many are filled with herbs as like all Gnomes, he loves food. generally easy going and happy, yossel will trudge along the road for days without complaint. content with admiring the things around him. he does however want to do all he can to help cure the awful disease that destroyed his home and his family. He generally tries to avoid the subject of his family, and more specifically his father. Miscellaneous info: fantastic at cooking and scrounging for food. does not fight. he buries him self like a good Gnome is taught to do. horses are unnaturally tall animals and should not be ridden. when bored creates sculptures from earth with his power.
Yossel Sat beside the road with a curious smile on his face. the steady flow of carriages that had been leaving Broan had slowed to one or two a day. He had been watching with some interest as they trundled past, individuals and families alike rode with rags tied around their mouths and dared not talk to a stranger else they will be infected. But it was not all bad news, for today was the day that Yossel was going to see the king. Why? well because Yossel had never seen a king before - and of all the kings to see, why not the human one. "A Gnome who walks along a road is a lost Gnome" his father used to say. but Yossel found the whole experience exhilarating to say the least. On his way to the city he had found several rocks he had never seen before grey ones with red bands through them. He had befriended a cat just before eating it, and traded a small clay statuette of a Knight with a little boy for another straw hat. This hat fit much better than his last one. and wasn't as tattered. So after two weeks on the road and being offered travel by several concerned human families, Yossel could finally see the city of Broan. It was larger than the other cities he had been to. but the worst affected by the plague of all the human cities he knew of. It was a little disheartening to think that the carriages lessened because there were no people left to leave. but surely the upper tier will be fine, and that is where he is headed. The morning sun poked its head out from behind a cloud warming his back. it sent a small unpleasant shiver down his spine and remembered why Gnomes loved being underground. At this prompting Yossel began to pack the small statues he had made from the dirt into his pouches. stood up, dusted himself off and set and set out towards the city.
Qarkar Tic Qarkar scratched his belly, and surveyed the crowds within the courtyard that had gathered at the king's words. He wasn't surprised that the Gnomes held the majority -with an even twenty present, and rumors of more arriving individually-, what surprised him was the lack of numbers among the other races. Including their leaders and kings their were only four Elementi (An odd bunch Qarkar thought), and six humans (An eccentric lot to say the least). He would have thought that at the severity of the plague, more would have turned up; he had expected all able bodied to volunteer. What he saw disappointed him, but it was better than nothing. At least there was a force at all, albeit small for his taste. Qarkar tapped his toes against the cobbled courtyard with impatience. The Fauns were late. He had never seen a Faun in person, but he'd been told stories of their unrivaled gluttony and sloth. He felt a twinge of familiarity as he eyed his Gnomish counterparts, and as he reached into his pack for some mole jerky. The leaders present were in muttered conference with one another, not letting their words be overheard by uninvited ears. Qarkar felt a sense of pride as he watched his king speak with the other mighty leaders as an equal, and as he ought! Gnomes were unrecognized for their powers and importance, Qarkar thought. "Watcha think they be talking about, eh?" A rat-faced Gnome standing beside him asked. Absentmindedly, Qarkar handed the Gnome a slice of mole jerky, and pondered the question. "They be probably discussing our future." He said finally, his last words cut off by the blaring fanfare of trumpets. (The blasted noisy things.) He turned to see the Fauns enter, one by one. Five males, four fat, and one lean; and one female, skinny, and with nothing to show. Qarkar bit back a curse. The Fauns had also failed to bring proper support. "I am so glad that you could come, noble Faun. Please forgive my ignorance, I am not versed in the world outside my kingdom, and know not your name." The king Elthidius said, bowing graciously to the newcomers, as the younger lean male stepped forward to the leaders' circle. "Let's cut the pleasantries, and have some action, eh?" Qarkar muttered under his breath, folding his arms over his girth. The Gnome beside him nodded in agreement, and bit into his jerky.
Annie walked around one of the King's many courtyards. She had been in the palace on many occasions, coming from a rich family and all, but that had been for more festive events, and today surely wasn't one of those. Today she had come to hear about a quest, one which might have the answer she had been seeking for the majority of the past nine years. Although, she wasn't quite satisfied with the turnout. At most she counted six humans, unless more were to arrive, four elementi, who she really looked forward to meeting, twenty gnomes, which wasn't a very comforting notion, and the six fauns that had just arrived, a female among them. She assumed that this was due to the general fear of the plague, much akin to the fear present in her own family. There were times when she would fear it as well. She remembered one such time vividly. But that didn't mean they shouldn't fight it, and that's what she intended to do. No, that's what she was doing. Now the congregation was making her impatient. She didn't care how many others there were; she would've taken the quest on by herself. After all, how hard could it be to find a book, with everything she had done already? She did have to admit, the notion of this book being able to cure the plague did trouble her. Annie was a worshipper of Remu, and she did believe in magic, but it was frustrating to think that after all of her efforts and sacrifices for the past nine years, this one thing would magically solve everything. She wanted to hear this monk out.
"Let's cut the pleasantries, and have some action, eh?" Etri heard a gnome next to him mutter. He had to agree, they'd been waiting to start for ages and the Elementi's wolf was getting Tusk nervous. He patted his head. "Easy boy." Astride Tusk he had a better view than most of the other gnomes. Over the on the other side of the courtyard he could see Fauns entering. They weren't the most impressive bunch, having heard stories of their speed he wondered how something that fat could run fast. "This is who's going after the cure?" He sighed. Wondering when exactly things would get moving.
Eli was irritated. He had traveled so far when he could have been sleeping in a lovely inn and now here he was not doing anything. He sighed dramatically and twirled a strand of black hair around his finger absently. Not to mention he'd had a terrible fall on the way here and his lip was bleeding slightly and his head was hurting. He quickly wiped away some of the blood and clutched his lion pendant that rested on his chest. He didn't trust these people. He scowled at the congregation still clutching the medallion, daring anyone to steal his prized possession.
Name: Ryynevaur Race: Elementi Age: Ascended at the age of 36 (time lost meaning to him after that) Sex: Male Appearance: The appearance he chooses for dealing with the mortal races is of a pale, slender man with chiseled features with a mane of long, black hair atop his head and eyes that betray a powerful ferocity. His expression can normally be described as distant or disinterested. Aura: Violet Clothing/Equipment: His attire is usually made up of a pair elegant cloth trousers and robe that seems to flow with non-existent winds. His feet and chest are left bare. (Note that this is the attire that is worn in his human form.) Short Bio: Life before the Ascension seems like a distant dream. His senses have become dulled to the physical world, as if everything was happening from a great distance. He finds the passions and drives he felt as a man to be slowly drifting away in the wind. Personality: Distanced from the world, viewing it almost with disdain. Has little connections with his fellow Elementi, save for a few. But due to the fierce individualism of his kind, this is not uncommon. He is so much like the storm, a fierce and unstoppable act of nature one moment, and calm and serene the next. He longs to loose himself in the wind. Miscellaneous info: His Familiar is a feathered serpent by the name of Quetzanctil. It is often malevolent and urges him to acts of violence. Ryynevaur often views it with disgust.
Pytt looked up from the knife he was sharpening. More had arrived, more of the beast-men. And yet, these were different: hoofed and fat - save for two slender ones - like goats in a green field. Different, yet no less strange. This new land had brought many strange encounters to Pytt, not the least of which were these new, bizarre peoples. They never ceased to unnerve him. The gods had created man, and they had created beasts. Why would they create something in between? And what of these spirit-men, these...what did they call them? Alimenati? What were they and why should they exist? Were they messengers of the gods? Or perhaps men undertaking the ultimate in blasphemies? He did not know. He would have to ask the Shaman of his village when he returned. If he ever returned...
Name: Archanos Race: Elementi Age: 75 at ascension >100 years ago Sex: Formerly Male Appearance: Archanos exists as a mere presence observable as distortion of light. When interacting with the world he manifests as something akin to a drayad or hamadrayad, being composed of living plant matter generally reflective of the vegatation from his surroundings. Aura: Green Clothing/Equipment: None Short Bio: Before ascension Archanos lived as a monk. Devoting himself to the study of the magic arts and the service of others he became known as 'the Giver' to the surrounding communities because of the bountiful gardens from which he freely gave to anyone who asked. Most of his past has been forgotten since his ascension. He has spent the last decades communing with nature and exploring the ascended realm and its relation to the physical world. His desire is for increasing the good and maintaining the dynamic balance of the world. Personality: Like all elementi, Archanos is distant from the plights of mortals. However, his desire for maintaining the natural balance of the world and his inherent generosity brings him into interaction with mortals far more frequently than most elementi Miscellaneous info: Archanos is in communion and covanant with the plant world. His powers allow him to form the plant life in his surroundings into whatever he desires. He is rarely violent but can weild his dryad manifestation into a formidable weapon. However, he prefers to intervene by providing healing herbs and remedies for those in need. Archanos' strength is very susceptible to his environment, he tires quickly in the dark and is limited in his abilities in the absence of vegetation, earth, or water. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Name: Tumblefoot Race: Hyla (Summoned Familiar from another realm) Age: Unkown Sex: Presumably male Appearance: Tumblefoot is a 3 foot frog with bulging dark eyes, he wears a plain tattered cape. Aura: Orange Short Bio: Tumblefoot was summoned from another realm by the monk that became Archanos not long before his ascension. He has since been his aid. Personality: Thoughtful and loyal Tumblefoot is perpetually confused by the attitude of humble sacrifice of his Elementi companion. Committed to a fault, he will never disobey his master, but has been known to argue when when Archonos does or asks him to do something he considers 'beneath them'.
To the east side of the courtyard the translucent effigy of a large frog-creature sat twitching its toes impatiently. The others in the vicinity gave a wide berth around the mysterious creature. Most were unaware of why they felt the need keep such a distance, but the more perceptive in the group may have also seen what the others had sensed hovering above the frog. The subtle shift of light and tint of green that accompanied the spirit creature carried with a palpable presence of centuries of wisdom and elemental power. Tumblefoot cocked his head sideways and blinked his dark bulbous eyes at his Elementi master. “Am I to understand that this rag-tag group of mortals is to subdue the evil you fear? Hmph!” Tumblefoot folded his arms and sighed, returning his gaze to the gathered crowd. “Of course, of course. And the other three Ascended, what do you suppose is their purpose here?” “Yes, yes of course, bite your tongue, bite your tongue. Sigh.”
The crowds fell silent as the palace doors finally swung open once more, and Elthidius walked out, followed by a young monk. The monk wore the usual monk's robes, with a pendant to Ternus. He looked to be in his early twenties, with a long face, and a brown tonsure. My my, where was he, in the very pinnacle of your palace, king? The blue wolf Zin grinned, and licked it's black lips. "Nearly." Elthidius said wearily, causing the young man to flush, before turning to the crowd, "Here is the monk Arliar, please devote your attention to what is about to take place. He shall tell us what he has to say, then he shall be questioned by the rulers of each nation." With that, Elthidius gestured to Arliar, and he stepped forward, rummaging through a satchel over his shoulder. "I... I have here..." Speak louder human monk. I..." Arliar said louder, throwing a frightened glance at Zin's pointed teeth, and pulling a large tome from the satchel, "I have here the Book of Ellid. For the last twenty years the monks of the Ternus monastery have dedicated their lives to translating this book. And-and we think we found a way to stop this plague." As he spoke, he opened the book, and began flipping through the many pages, seeming to become more excited with each turn. "Many in the past have questioned the validity of this book, but we have recently discovered something critical that we didn't know before. Ellid wrote the events in reverse order. Now, we don't know if this was a custom for writing back then, or if it was by his whim, but that's the way it's written." Arliar broke off to turn to a page near the end, and held it up, "Famine!" He said, pointing at the pages, "The fields and beasts shall die, and the men shall eat the bark of the trees. Yet the great famine occurred over one thousand years ago!" He then turned to the first page of the book, "Plague!" He said, "Sickness shall engulf the land, and brother shall turn against brother!" The Faun Terel raised a hand in question, and Arliar fell silent at once, "If that is the very first page, and we're going backwards, then where is the page describing a place that holds the cure?" "Yes yes, I was getting to that, I wasn't finished." Arliar said, "Upon the death of the forgotten race, they shall seek a sanctuary, where hope may be found." Arliar fell silent. "Is that all?" Piped the Gnome king Grshnel. "Well... Yes, in the book." Arliar said, and there was an immediate uproar. "That be nothing!" Grshnel said, "Not even a word to tell us what the place be, or how to get there? We lost four Gnomes just on the road here, to plague no less, we did!" "Waste of time..." Terel muttered, beating the ground nervously, as the noise increased. "Please, please!" Arliar shouted, for several in the crowd had turned and begun to leave, "Just hear me out!" "Silence!" Boomed a loud voice, causing the stones to shake. Everyone stopped talking at once, and turned to see who had spoken. All the Fauns trembled, and continued beating at the ground with their hooves. It seemed the leader of the Elementi, the tall mountainous shape, had been the one to speak. The Elementi fell back into silence, but its body inclined forward for Arliar to continue. Arliar nodded, his entire body shaking, and turned to face the crowd once more. "I won't ask you to stay, nor accompany me." He said softly, his voice nevertheless carrying through the perfectly silent courtyard, "But I ask that you just hear what I have to say... I know that the cure is out there, and I'm sure that we could find it." Arliar fell silent, and waited. Terel and Grshnel both turned, and walked back to their kind. Some of the crowds resumed leaving once more. Elthidius shook his head sadly, and placed a hand upon the monk's shoulder. "How quickly all lose faith." The tall Elementi said, "We Elementi shall remain to hear your story, monk. Then we shall decide which action to take." Grshnel waved a scornful hand, and continued his departure. "Thank you." Arliar said, turning to the diminishing courtyard, "Will any others stay?"
"Will any others stay?" “As the great Elementi said, my master Archanos the magnificent and I, his proud aid Tumblefoot, will remain to assist in this endeavor despite its futility and certain destiny of mortal failure.” The short frog glowed a gentle orange and made animated gestures as he spoke. The presence behind Tumble foot moved suddenly. Two paces away the courtyard tree that had stood silent for ages began to sway. The great oak began to twist and contort into a vaguely human shape. Stepping from its bed of earth the tree approached the frog in a single stride on tangled root-legs that broadened as the descended toward the ground. A massive branch like hand gripped the frog firmly by the head. As the leafy canopy coalesced into a green cape the mask of Archon emerged at the dryad’s head. The bark colored mask was smooth and featureless save for two open eye slits where a dimm green light emanated. A full head taller than the average man the avatar of Archanos bowed low and made a sweeping gesture with its free hand as it gently pushed the impish frog into a similar position of submission. “And my master would like to emphasize that we are but humble servants of the earth at your disposal.”
Before any of the other gnomes could object Etri answered raising his pickaxe skyward. "Through dirt or air, through mud or stone the bravest gnomes will be there." He wondered if he had been out of line answering before even the king could. But he was sure the king would have agreed. A few other gnomes cheered in agreement.
With each drop that fell from the darkened sky, with each flash of light and roar of thunder, a being that could once be called a man laughed. It wasn't the dry cackle of a cynic, nor the boastful shoat of a triumphant villain. It was a thing of pure, undiluted passion. An exclamation of a joy so powerful, that few ever truly find. An irony for sure, that such feelings could ever stir in a being that had so readily shed away his own humanity. Ryynevaur stood in the very center of the tempest, embracing the raw fury of the storm. Opening himself fully to its energies, he ushered in its power until he and it became one and the same. Until he could feel the release of every drop of rain, feel the strength of each roar of thunder and the quick fury of each bolt of lightning. It was then that he opened his eyes. Through twin orbs of gleaming blue light, the Elementi gazed upon the earth. Windswept plains of silvery grass and and patches of dark green trees danced to the song of his winds, their roots desperately clinging to the ground. Scattered forest denizens jumped at each roar of thunder and cried out as lightning collided with the ground, burning through all it touched. Small sections of farmland dotted the grassy plains, notable only by the tiny lights gleaming through the windows of the farmhouses. What peoples that lay huddled and cowering inside these homes were of little consequence. Such a fury can't ever be stopped, and will endure until its hunger is satisfied. Inside the confines of his mind, a dry, shrill cackling echoed through his thoughts. A hoarse laughter dripping with cruelty. Ryynevaur didn't need to guess who it was. A smoky aura drifted around his vision, steadily taking the shape of a serpentine figure lined with feathers that waved in the breeze. Twin fangs protruded from it's snake-like maw, adding a sort primal ferocity to it. Not that it was even necessary of coarse. Twin spheres of darkness made up it eyes. Pits of ancient darkness that in the deepest recesses of his psyche, Ryynevaur feared. Tendril-like words of encouragement flooded Ryynevaur's mind. A thousand whispers in unison, asking of him a thousand atrocities. The demigod shook away the words with practiced ease, annoyed at their intrusion. He turned for one agonizing moment away from the storm to gaze at the serpent-like wisp. “No.” He did not merely utter the command, but expressed it as well. Lacing the word with indomitable force of his will. The serpent froze in the chill air, it laughter stopped as the mirth left its eyes. With half-hearted malice it turned towards its master, muttering slight protests before returning its attention to the storm. It somehow smirked as it looked upon the directionless power that was unleashed upon the earth, content with the pointless destruction. Pleased that his familiar was once more under control, the Elementi turned his attention once more to the ever growing tempest. For hours he lost himself in directing the harsh winds, feeling their crisp embrace as he brought them crashing down upon the ground below. On sudden urge he allowed himself to scream out with the storm, his voice heightened so that it matched the thunder, the eruption of sound echoing throughout the plains. And then he felt the slightest tingle. It was a small thing at first, but noticeable even amidst the storm. It was a charge that laced the air, an unfathomable energy that seemed just beyond reach. Ryynevaur gave a rare smile, the serpent laughed with glee. It happened in a flash, a sure of energy that coursed through his entire being. Hot, white light erupting from his fingertips. It smashed into the ground, with the fury of a god's fist. Where once stood a quiet hill, nothing remained but a smoldering crater. Like an open would upon the skin of the earth. The serpent's laugh grew heavier, its alien passions heightened tenfold from the wanton destruction. For the first time, the Elementi couldn't disagree with him. This was his element, this was his purpose, this was his power. A second surge of power rushed through his veins, and he shot his hand out as it burst from him, cutting a line through a dense area of forest. Fires erupted from where he had struck, but the rain would ensure it would not spread far. Breathing came heavy to Ryynevaur, his frame shaking from exhaustion. It was one thing to feel the storm, to experience, but to direct it....that was taxing. Just as this tempest would exhaust all its power it a grand display of strength, so must he. It was his way. For a third and final time, he felt the now familiar rush of energy, and he knew it would be his last, for his body was beginning to wear down. With a fluid motion he directed his hand back down to the earth, right atop a lone farmhouse. The Elementi could picture the small family huddled together in the little hovel. Clutching each other, gaining comfort from each others presence. Suddenly time seemed to stop, and he could remember a man. A man of great skill and intellect, with a nigh insatiable hunger for knowledge. A woman sits next with him as he pores over a dusty tome, he looks up, and they embrace in the light of a candle. The man seemed so familiar.....He hesitated a moment as the energy shot through him, a strange feeling of regret creeping through him, a terrible sense of dread. He felt guilt. Acting quicker than most eyes could follow, he shot his hand upward, angling the bolt of lightning. It crashed but a few short inches from the home. Dirt and debris shot into the sky as a small crater with a ring of burnt grass emerged from the impact. Beyond his control, a sigh of relief escapes his lips, much to his own confusion. As the breath escaped, so did the clouds begin to part. Streaks of golden light shot through the cracks like divine arrows. A slight sense of despair overcame the being that was once a man, for he knew that the power had been spent. Through his mind, he could feel the cries of hunger and frustration emulate from his familiar. For its was a hunger so alien to comprehension that no amount of destruction could ever truly satisfy it. Ryynevaur drew a small measure of satisfaction from the things pain. He never cared for the damnable spirit. Ryynevaur began to fall to the ground, his connection to the tempest all but dissipated. He felt weak, tired, and he wondered if the fall could kill him. The serpent fell with him, though of its own will. It was not drawn to the Elementi through any physical bond, no invisible chain. There minds were linked, both of them bound to the other. One could not live without the other, and the spirit was far from ready to accept oblivion. But the Elementi was far from inexperienced, and was quick to reject the fear-driven offers the feathered snake gave him. Instead he drew inward, calling out to the winds, offering himself to them. And as if awaiting him, a strong breeze caught him, slowing his rapid descent. Cool breezes kissed at his skin as he fell, but Ryynevaur knew that for their apparent gentleness, they were more than adequate to hold him aloft. He collapsed as his frame hit the hard earth, his energies more than spent from the storm. He lay there on the silvery grass for sometime, pondering countless things. The serpent floated lazily in circles around him, a mixture of boredom and malice wrapped on its face. Ryynevaur felt as if he could just sleep in this spot forever, and deep down a part of him wanted to. But he knew these feelings to be temporary, they always were. He only need to rest, and to wait for the energies in the wind to once more gather inside him. “Quite the performance. Hope your not too tired.” came a voice from behind. Ryynevaur froze in place for a moment, surprise washing over him. The ghostly serpent hissed. But after a moment he came to recognize the voice, and in another he remembered who's it was. “Lyrian.” he said in a flat, toneless voice. Steadily, the tired Elementi rose, bringing himself to eye level to the annoyance. Nothing about Lyrian was subtle. But then again, fire is always anything but subtle. Eyes of burnished gold were the first feature to notice. Staring at him with a quiet intensity. A long flowing cloak of red and black, with caricatures of fire emblazoned on every inch of its surface. What flesh that was visible was immolated in an ever-burning flame. Though the feature that most annoyed Ryynevaur was the face. It was completely flawless, with chiseled features and high cheekbones. It was a face that the Elementi of Storms found disturbingly human. It took all his resolve, and no help from his familiars whispers, to not strike the annoying smirk from that face. To anyone who might be lucky enough to witness such an exchange between god-like beings, it is assumed that the contrast between the two was easily evident. Where Lyrian was extravagant, Ryynevaur was simple...almost boring. His form was like someone had taken a piece of the clouds and shaped it into the rough shape of a man. With slight features dented into it. It is supposed that if the eyes were drawn anywhere on his frame it was his face. While the majority of it was without form, as if some divine sculptor had abandoned it halfway through, his eyes were absolutely ferocious. Twin globes of caged lightning that flickered with such intensity that they alone made up for the bland face they were attached. The two locked eyes for what seemed an eternity, tension charging the air. It was Ryynevaur who finally broke the silence. “Why are you here?” The fiery Elementi just stood their, smirking like a child. Knowing full well of the short temperament his fellow Elementi had for it. He walked towards Ryynevaur, arm outstretched as if offering him a hand. Four eyes, each like that of a tiny ember, were visible through the Elementi's robe. With movements akin to a snake, it slithered out from beneath the clothing. Six legs lined with fiery scales and tail as long as a man's forearm crawled up Lyrian's arm. Once atop his shoulder, the creature gaped at Ryynevaur, its wide mouth slightly agape. Ryynevaur glared at the pair, disgust visible on his features. He despised Lyrian. Just as he would despise any man would give themselves so fully over to such a malevolent creature. As if it had heard his very thoughts, the salamander-like entity intensified its glare. Lyrian took note of this quickly, stiffing back a chuckle. “It would seem Coatizotil hasn't improved his feelings on you.” he said with a smirk. He nodded towards the serpent lazily coiled on Ryynevaur torso. “Your familiar doesn't seem to like you much either.” Anger flashed over Ryynevaur face, his fist clenching tightly. “I could care less what it thinks. If I could be rid of the damnable thing....” he cast a glare at the serpent, letting his eyes finish the sentence. “Tsk, tsk. Such hate.” said Lyrian with the tone of a school teacher. “Such a pity you would let such petty reasoning deny you from such a glorious union....” “Free will is not petty.” Ryynevaur quickly stated before beginning his own argument. “In fact....” “Enough.” came a voice like gravel tumbling down a mountainside. The sound itself had stung his thoughts, and even though he saw Lyrian mouth the word, he wasn't sure if it was really his, or its. With a quick shake of his head Lyrian regained his posture. “I have only come on behalf of Ireil and Zin. They have requested your audience.” Ryynevaur gaped for a second, absorbing the information. He spoke after a moment of thought. “For what purpose?” “The Plague. It would seem that our dearest leader has decided it worth our time. And to be honest, the threat it may pose to us is...considerable.” The Fire Elementi paused, for what Ryynevaur assumed was dramatic effect. Idiot. “She requested you personally.” At this, it was Ryynevaur's turn to smirk. “But not you?” Anger, great and terrible, flashed through both the eyes of Lyrian and Coatizotil. Short tempers were almost expected for a master of fire. But much to his surprise, Lyrian regained his composure. “I have.....other matters that require my attention.” he said through gritted teeth. “Ireil thought it best to send me to retrieve you, considering our past together.” Ryynevaur stood tall at that remark, walking with narrow purpose towards the angered Elementi. “My past, my friendship, was with a being called Lyrian. Not this abomination that struts before me.” Searing hot pain erupted in Ryynevaur's chest as Lyrian brought a blazing finger upon it. But Ryynevaur would rather die that let Lyrian see his pain. So he held it in, as the serpent chided him for his apparent weakness, urging him to strike out. Ryynevaur ignored it. Lyrian began to speak, but at this point Ryynevaur knew where the words really came from. “Remember who your better is, lest you overstep yourself.” Ryynevaur flashed him a look somewhere between defiance and pure hatred. He pushed himself closer to Lyrian, until he almost gagged with the stench of sulfur and ash. “For now.” he said, with a tone full of disgust. With that, Ryynevaur transformed himself. Flesh erupted from his skin of clouds, pale and flawless. His features becoming more defining as slight, but hardy muscle shown through the skin. Long black hair shot from his bald scalp, creating a mane of raven-black. A cloak suddenly formed open his frame, as if sewn from the wind. It was the color of storm-clouds, with a pair of matching trousers. The clothing looked very loose on him, seeming to flow in invisible breezes. The only piece that remained the same were the striking blue eyes, still as ferocious as ever. As soon as the transformation was complete, Ryynevaur began to disintegrate. It began at his bare feet and hands, the breeze seeming to blow him away as if he were dust. In a few moments, he became nothing but a dust floating through the winds. “Come Quetzanctil.” came a voice from the air. And with one last defiant hiss, the feathered serpent became dust as well. It was an easy thing to track Ireil. Even in this state, all Elementi shared at least a slight bond, able to search for each other if they concentrated. When he finally found her aura, he let go. While sightless in this state, he knew the winds would take him to his quarry. Time seemed to mean even less to Ryynevaur in this state, for it seemed he had only traveled a moment before he felt his shape re-form. When his senses were returned, he found himself in a courtyard. Of human design he could tell. He looked around to see a peculiar mix of peoples surrounding him, most human, with some faun and gnome into the mixture. 'Interesting' came a thought in his head, he wondered if it was his. Some of the faces seemed surprised at his sudden entrance, though he paid them no heed. When he looked directly up did he see the face of Ireil, her face did not express even the slightest surprise at his arrival. “Your late.” was her greeting.
“Your late,” Archanos stood and turned his attention to the shape forming on the breeze. He did not need to see the elementi, however, his aura was was known to him. “Ah, I see our good friend Ryynevaur has arrived,” chirped Tumblefoot. Archanos ignored the familiar's sarcasm. Looking around the courtyard the silent figure surveyed those who remained committed to the cause and those who were abandoning hope. “I see fire in the eyes of the daughter of the wood,” he marked to himself surveying the slender Faun. His gaze next fell on the gnome who had just proclaimed his devotion, “And there may be more than a few of the earth children that take up the call.” “Tumblefoot, leave the serpent alone. I would like to know the she-faun and the loud son of earth. Will you fetch them for me please?” Tumblefoot paused a few paces from the drifting Quetzanctil, whom he had intended to taunt with boasts of how much more noble his master was. Instead the frog shrugged and made his way awkwardly on two legs toward the faun as he had been requested. Archanos chuckled to himself at the fluorished bowhis familiar made as it approached the faun, “Pleased to make your acquaintance my dear, the great Archanos would inquire of your name and ancestry.” "I cannot help butsense the destiny in this place, in that book. The mortals must be protected, else the natural order will crumble, but perhaps there is something more. Perhaps I will find the answers that I seek."
