Amarion wakes and packs away his belongings along with the others. His three companions set off and he is free to pray without distraction. As he kneels in the main garden of the Temple of the Ancients, he feels calm. He closes his eyes and begins a silent conversation with his deity, with Eloranos. For something he does daily, this time, it feels different. He feels a sense of nausea swell within, a rush of air on his skin, a brightness behind the eyes that fills his vision white. A vision takes form as he sees a cloudy sky, he rushes upward to meet the clouds, gliding through at incredible speed, his vision still blindingly bright. The feeling of nausea settles and slowly transforms into warmth, pride, belonging. He sees colours ahead, gathering in the sky. Spell like bolts of energy launch toward him, and just as he braces for the pain, they ricochet from him. Hurtling into the clouds far in the distance, he is unscathed, he is protected. His vision slowly fades, but the feeling remains, a warmth, a love, a trust from his god. As he rises from prayer in the temple once more, the air around him has changed, his aura has changed.
Edward Fogbluff notices Amarion rise from prayer before he leaves the temple that day. He can feel, even from a great distance, something has changed for the Paladin. He leaves, a sense of bitterness rising, and finds somewhere that reminds him of home. He finds a large open market, a sign reads 'Treetop Traders Guild', and despite the more austere nature of the elves, it makes him think of the crowds back in Sun's End Port. He sits on the floor to one side of a market stall, Shadow Tome and Pearl of Power in hand, eyes closed, and wilfully contacts his Patron, Xarturas. His vision swims from the warm red of his eyelids to a deep dark black. The sound of the market fades from his senses, and when he opens his eyes once more, darkness. Edward finds himself sat at a table with two chairs, all made of cold stone. Wisps of smoke circle in miniature cyclones, and a vague humanoid forms in the empty chair opposite. "Welcome, Edward" speaks a voice of burning coals, the unmistakable voice of Xarturas projected from the figure of smoke. A conversation unwinds between the warlock and his patron, heated at times and reassuring at others. Edward compares Xarturas to Amarion's Goddess, and asks why he cannot be supported, why he cannot feel hope, security, freedom. The fiendish entity answers many of his questions, occasionally threatening Edward on the rebellious tone he is adopting. He talks of the great expanse between a God and someone of the outer planes, let alone someone of the Material Plane. He speaks of the nature of his actions, of the shackles that ensnare Edward's world. He explains the heights he will raise Edward to, should he remain loyal. He takes the Pearl of Power clutched by Edward and with a wave of a smoky hand, the pearl changes to a dark colour. He hands it back to Edward, now warm to the touch. Edward sets conditions that Xarturas does not destroy Demoras, or bring harm to his friends, and Xarturas agrees. Edward reaffirms his pact and instantly feels a tingle of warmth at his back. He is sent hurtling away from the table, the warmth rising to burning, and just as pain tickles his senses, it is conquered. He is no longer burnt by the flames, he is one with the flames. He stretches out his arms, his whole body wreathed in flames, as fire erupts from his palms. His vision fades, he feels shaking, his eyes open and he is in the market once more. A market worker is shaking him awake, a fearful look in her eyes. He was convulsing on the floor, Edward pushes her away snatching his belongings, including the now darkened pearl, and runs as fast as he can.
Night approaches and the party are feeling well rested enough to actually have fun and explore Anlyth. Crom, Edward, and Mornington are led by Amarion to visit the Gilded Lyre Tavern, a lively venue with music, drinks and dancing. Upon arrival a band are in the midst of a set - a harpist, singer, percussionist, and lyre player - and the place is alive with revelry. A couple of drinks are had and Mornington approaches the side of the stage. He is recognised by a tavern worker who suggests he put on a performance with the band, and Mornington is happy to oblige. A few quick words with the band and they are ready to accompany his tales of mighty heroes and great deeds. He addresses the crowd, who are a puzzled by the pause of the music, and begins speaking of a band of intrepid heroes that travel far across the continent in search of the legendary Element Stones. Flourishes of instrumentation are added sparingly to heighten the mood, the bard's flute for rising winds, dizzying harp for fantastical creatures, and crescendos of percussion for dramatic action. The longer the tale is told the more invested the crowd, and the more clear it becomes that Mornington speaks of himself and his companions as the protagonists of this tale. The story arrives at the great primordial, defender of the Earth Stone, and the crowd is held with bated breath. As the heroes claim victory and free the spirit of this great creature, Mornington too claims a great victory upon the stage. The tavern erupts in applause at the magnificently woven tale, the stage is showered in riches, in gold and platinum! Attendees both rich and meger are marvelled to be in the presence of such individuals, and the party have a well needed night of drink and high revelry. Only half of the party sleep in the temple that night, for their fame leads them astray to the beds of others.
The next day in Anlyth.
Crom wakes on his third peaceful day in the city, and is to continue his sparring with Glanduil Trisbalar. However, when he arrives in their usual meeting spot, the dexterous ambusher is nowhere to be found. Instead, Crom wonders further until he hears rustling in the bushes nearby. He prepares his weapons and waits for the tell tale sound of throwing knives cutting through the air. Instead heavy footing thunders ahead and the foliage gives way in an instance to reveal a huge black bear in full charge towards Crom, it has bony protrusions on its spine, brow, elbows, jaw, a Unknown. He braces to meet the bear head on, not wishing to hurt it, he instead looks to ward off its deadly natural weapons. The bears mighty jaws are locked open as Crom raises his axe haft to stop an embrace of sharp teeth, as he does his feet grind along the loose soil of the jungle floor. The bear rears up, preparing to bring down its mighty claws, and it stops, nose twitching, and it's taught muscles relax as it returns to all fours. It advances once more, but slowly this time, sniffing Crom's head and face. It sits on its hind legs and slowly raises a paw as it looks deep into Crom's eyes. Crom meets its gesture with his own hand, and for a moment there is an understanding, a harmony of spirit. The bear's nose twitches once more, but the look on its face shifts to concern as it retracts, slowly turns, and wonders back into the jungle from whence it came. Crom turns, and stood across the clearing, is Glanduil. Drop jawed, he exclaims how impressive it is to be able to calm such a ferocious beast. They are on very different paths indeed. As promised, they continue their sparring, and when it comes to his final test of skill Crom deflects not one, but four thrown daggers in a row. Even with Glanduil misty stepping to different locations, Crom's reactions are flawless, he will be forever ready to make the first move when danger strikes.
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