The Gaze of Eternity

[Ozymandias]

Across town, a crowd gathered at the courthouse. It is, in fact, the second such crowd to do so this stormy evening; though it is considerably more violent than the first. A dozen or so faithful had arrived on the steps of the great stone building, braving storm, brigands, and the seemingly deaf ear of the judge as their leader pounded on the door in supplication.

 

"Let us in, your grace!", bellowed the tall octegenarian through clenched teeth. His loud, ringing shouts more than made up for his feeble blows on the dense wood. Onlookers started to gather. It was not many at first, but even in the most primal of storms, one voice that can be heard over it all begins to demand attention. His comrades joined in the cry with a will, but died down just as quickly when he spoke further. "Our people are being slaughtered like animals! Where is the watch? What have they done to stop this? Where are your bounties posted for murderers? Hundreds of people have been burned alive and we see you do NOTHING! We demand an answer! Open your door!" His friends joined with him as one, barely audible over the now howling wind. "Open the door! Open the door!"

 

Hecklers and less savory sorts started in on the bedraggled flock then. It was as if after watching the display for over two hours, they could stand no more.

 

"-lease sir! Other pe-le are dying, but - we are, too! It's n- fair! We're the anoin-ted!", came a sneering singsong.

 

"Save us! The Lord doesn't dictate mortal affairs, we're f*cked if you don't!"

 

"You believe in someone who doesn't exist! Small wonder noone's saving you! Idiots.", shouted another. At this, the old man at the door turned his imposing gaze down on the throng at the foot of the stairs.

 

"We are not here to justify ourselves to you, or to the judge.", he boomed. A thunderclap echoed his statement. "We are here to see that we are given the equal justice as is our given right! And we will let no-one stand in our way." He gazed sternly across them all for emphasis.

 

"O-? I- - threa-?"

 

"Arrogant old geezer."

 

"Don't fling t- h-y crap at us, - man!" The speaker, a man dressed in now sopping leather armor and green cloth bent down and scooped up a handful of horse dung. Hefting it once, he yelled again, "Let us have a t-!" And with that, he threw it at the old man. It landed with a quiet splat right on his craggy face. Near the base of the stairs, a worshipper threw a punch, and seconds later, a full-scale brawl was under way in the middle of a hurricane.

 

Minutes later, rounding a corner, stumbling, shivering, cursing, and trying desperately to wring out his cloak, a lone witness came in full view of the scene. Jaw dropping open, wetness was temporarily forgotten. " HEY!", he shouted, even as he tossed off the bulky pack that bent him nearly double.

Pack swinging from his hand, he charged forward, slipping and spluttering oaths. " STOP!", he cried again- so loudly it hurt his throat. But they could not hear him. So he charged on. When he drew behind a bear of a swordsman viciously kicking a woman in the ribs, he threw all of his one-hundred and eighty pounds into an enraged swing of the leather pack at the swordsman's head. The mercenary was felled like a tree, and hit the ground semiconscious. The force pushed the young man's feet out from under him in the mud, and he fell on his back hard. He swore again.

 

A blade is drawn.

 

 

Two more hours later, it is finished. The outlaws have scattered gainst the storm, back to their rooms, hovels, and other refuge; save for one dead man with a crushed throat and a slowly asphyxiating swordsman dressed in green cloth and leather armor, who still clutches weakly at the knife in his ribs. The faithful have fared much worse. Those who had not been violated and grievously injured were either dead by stabbing, beating, or dying from half a dozen other cruelties.

 

Screaming his pain with abandon, the young man slowly and clumsily dragged two survivors- a woman whose ribs seemed nearly shattered was cradled in his own broken arm as she wept softly,and the old man's nearly seven foot frame was thrown over his shoulder, unmoving. Their blood ran freely from their bodies, the woman's; bubbling down her chin, the young man's from an angry gash running the width of his chest, and the old man simply seeming soaked in it. The rain washed all of it away with the same aplomb it had their fallen comrades'.

 

What seemed to the young rescuer's mind an eternity of closed windows and empty streets later, he found himself (he would never know how) at the door of the cathedral. Almost beyond caring, he used the old man's feet to batter the door open. The great inrush of wind and torrential rain all but eclipsed his croak of " sanctuary." Taking a step forward through the sweeping stone arch, his legs finally gave way and all three crumpled to the floor. They lay deathly still.

[Wyvern]

The priestess Maria, who had welcomed Gyrfalcon and the Dreamer into the church earlier, feels a draft of wind coming from the terrible storm outdoors. Certain that she had closed the cathedral doors for the evening, she picks up the cup of tea she was sipping on and heads towards the main hall to see what is causing the breeze. Upon arriving in the central chamber, she notices the motionless bodies scrawled on the ground and immediatly comes to a halt. The tea cup she is holding slips from her grasp and shatters to a million pieces on the cold stone floor. Her horror is so great that it takes a full 3 minutes before she can scream...

 

Maria's screams of terror echo from the main chamber throughout the entire church, awakening countless residents. Saint Derick and the 3 heros are amongst those awakened, and quickly rush towards the source of sound. Upon arriving in the central chamber, they find a bundled mass of confusion. A number of monks are tending to 3 blood soaked bodies on the ground while a few church patrons are desperatly trying to calm the priestess Maria, who seems to be in hysterics. Viewing the bodies on the ground and noticing the knife in the young adventurers chest, Saint Dericks face goes a deathly pale. Rushing to the bodies and turning to one of the monks, he exclaims:

 

"Have you called for a medic?!"

 

One of the monks immediatly speaks up, pointing to another monk that is closely examining the bodies:

 

"Fear not Father... they're in luck. Yorick has practiced medicine for many years and is tending to them..."

 

Turning to Yorick and looking over the bodies, Derick manages:

 

"How are they...?"

 

Yorick looks towards Derick solemnly and says:

 

"The old man is in a state beyond repair, I'm afraid... We'll lose him any moment now. The man in the green cloth and leather armor looks like he'll pull through. So does the woman, although she risks never walking again..."

 

Derick frowns and nods. Turning to the body of the old man, he places a hand on his head and pronounces a final prayer for him, watching as his last breaths fade away. After having declared the old man dead, Saint Derick helps the monks carry the two other bodies and set them on an alter. He tries to help treat the wounds, but Yorick assures him that he can only get in the way and that the monks can take care of things. Sighing to himself and regretting that there is nothing more he can do, Saint Derick turns from the alter and begins relentlessly pacing back and forth...

[Zadown]

The Dreamer stood near the edge of the milling confusion, watching the proceedings with a calculating look on his hooded face. Utterly bored, stuck here in one of the Primes, he let his mind wander while staring at the three blood-soaked humans...

 

... strong healing magic or resurrection would be too much of a signal fire to the seekers, and the man is old in any case ... but the others, I might end this fuss and gain some trust by healing them. On the other hand, any magic I do might bring them ever closer to me, but on the other hand they'll have to be extraordinary good to track minor healing magic...

 

He started to contemplate the amounts of mana used and how easily he himself would notice such disturbances from afar, through the spells of non-detection and cloaking he had active, when Father Derick's pacing to and forth made him mess up his calculations. The Dreamer's eyes flash yellow.

 

"Stop that! You are irritating me. If these brief mortal lives mean that much, I'll heal them so we can get this over with."

 

Looking annoyed, he stormed through the monks, ignoring them totally, and stopped next to the injured woman and man. Muttering a few arcane words under his breath, he touched first the man and then the woman lightly, wiping the fingers afterwards to his robes. No light shone and no other effects could be seen, but the wounds of the two injured humans vanished slowly. The Dreamer walked away, muttering something to himself in a dead language.

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon shook his head in wonder. With a few words and a simple touch, the Dreamer has cast a pair of spells that had left even the good Father Derick and Brother Yorick speechless, even as they were the two most accomplished healers in the cathedral.

 

Gyrfalcon was awestruck as well. Not by the amount of healing the Dreamer had managed- he had seen an archbishop do much the same, but with great effort, and more then one spell. More to the point, Gyrfalcon had assumed that the Dreamer was a pure mage, and he didn't think any mage could heal like that…

 

With a sigh, Gyrfalcon shook his head and motioned for a monk to help him as he lifted the now deeply sleeping young man by his shoulders. One monk held up his legs as another two picked up the woman.

 

"Father Derick? Where would you like them to be placed?" Gyrfalcon called out. Father Derick shook his head in wonder and then stopped looking at the door the Dreamer had left through.

 

"Oh… yes, yes… I think the guest quarters next to yours are free, aren't they? Put them there… No need to put them in the infirmary, I think that strange man just healed them fully… with what looked like a simple spell." Father Derick shook his head and motioned one of the milling monks to guide the Gyrfalcon and the three monks with their burdens.

 

After installing the young man in the empty guest room, Gyrfalcon shook his head and returned to his own. Somehow, he sensed, their journey would be very interesting in the future if this sort of thing was becoming common in the area.

[Ozymandias]

Light streamed in through the cell's one thin window, striking the now hale and hearty young visitor in the face.

 

"@#$%&!", he said to the sun. Pulling the sheets over and under his head, he rolled further into the corner. After a few seconds, he sat bolt upright, then yanked the covers from his eyes. "What?" Looking around with utmost caution and quiet care, the befuddled stranger soon realized there was noone else in the room but himself, the bed, and the nighttable. The door seemed to be unlocked, too. Always a good sign. Almost always.

 

Finally relaxing a bit, he swung his grimy, fuzzy feet to the floor. Standing resolutely, he retrieved his shoes from underneath the nighttable (wonder of wonders, they were clean!), slipped them on, and strode out of the monk's cell.

Confronted in the hallway by nothing but a long, long stretch of marble floor and rows of closed doors, he considered a moment. Reaching the acceptable decision, he turned on his heel and knocked loudly on the door next to his. "Hallo?" , he called.

 

There came a short shuffling, thumping, and rustling, and the door was opened with a groggy, "Unnh?"

 

"Timothy McLaggan. At your service.", Timothy stated, without offering a hand. "Where am I and who the devil are you?"

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and now this impertinent young fool was making demands of him.

 

To put it tactfully, Gyr wasn't in the best of moods.

 

The young man didn't seem to pick up on Gyr's darkening expression as he contemplated undoing the Dreamer's work from last night. Finally, Gyrfalcon forced down his anger and tried to answer the questions.

 

"This is the Felleros Cathedral. You are in the guest quarters thereof. My name is Gyrfalcon. Now, since it is just after dawn and its been a *long* night, I'm returning to bed." Gyrfalcon stifled a massive yawn and pointed down the corridor.

 

"Go that direction and you'll find some monks who can no doubt guide you where you want to go… I wouldn't go outside yet if I were you, though, its still not safe out there…"

 

Gyrfalcon nodded his head sleepily and closed the door. Timothy could hear the bed groan in unison with the half-elf as he collapsed on it.

[Wyvern]

Somewhat irritated by the half elf's rather rude behavior and still trying to piece together the events of the previous night, Timothy rubs his forehead and begins pacing down the hall in the direction that Gyrfalcon had pointed in. Admiring the fine marble floor and textured walls of the cathedral, he eventually notices a monk exiting one of the many sleeping quarters lining the halls. Upon seeing Timothy, the monks face instantly brightens. He immediatly rushes to Timothy and pats him on his shoulders, looking him over as if they had been friends for ages...

 

"I'm so glad to see you well!" exclaims the monk delightedly, once again examining the spots where Timothy's wounds had once been. "That Dreamer fellow is truly a master healer... there's hardly a scratch on you!"

 

"Errr..." starts Timothy "...and exactly who might you be?"

 

The monk stops his examinations for a moment and considers the question.

 

"Oh! Excuse me for not introducing myself... I'm Yorick, a monk and healer residing in this cathedral. You were found late last night on the floors of the central chamber of the church half dead along with two other people. Fortunatly, you've undergone a swift recovery..."

 

"Eh...? Wha...?"

 

Timothy thinks for a moment, then says "come with me... I'm certain that Father Derick, the head of this church, will be glad to see that you've awakened and are well. Perhaps he'll be able to explain the situation better then I have..."

 

With that, Yorick turns and begins walking down the corridor towards the main chamber of the church, signalling for Timothy to follow him. Shrugging to himself and seeing no better options, Tim begins pacing along after him.

 

After having arrived in the enormous main chamber of the church, Yorick introduces Timothy to Father Derick. Having shook Timothy's hand, the old priest retrieves an object from an alter and hands it to Tim.

 

"Do you recognise this...?" Derick asks thoughtfully.

 

Timothy stares at the object he now holds in his hands: a blood encrusted dagger. Suddenly, the events of the previous night come back to him with the force of battering ram. Timothy staggers back a few steps, rubbing his forehead.

 

"Jesus... $%!@..."

 

Derick clears his throat and mutters "if you would please refrain from swearing in the interior of the cathedral..."

 

Timothy frowns and looks towards Derick. His facial expression has now gone from befuddled confusion to dead seriousness.

 

"Tell me..." he inquires "...why the hell am I still alive?"

 

Derick smiles and says:

 

"You were quite lucky... we had an incredibly skilled healer amongst are ranks, known as the Dreamer. He was the one who managed to save you."

 

At that moment, as if stating his name had conjured his presence, the Dreamer walks into the main chamber along Gyrfalcon. Both are fully dressed and equipped, and seem determined and prepared for the epic quest that lays ahead of them. Noticing Timothy, Gyrfalcon manages a faint smile and makes a quick hand wave to him. The Dreamer ignores Timothy's presence completely.

 

"Where is Kaylera?" inquires the Dreamer to Derick, scanning the broad span of the room "Should she not have already been prepared and ready to go at this point?"

 

"Kaylera has already left upon her own will" answers Derick confidently. "She said that she had a few loose ends to take care of, and that she would be certain to cross paths with you later in your journey..."

 

Hearing them speak of a 'journey', Timothy immediatly becomes curious...

[Ozymandias]

His eyes seem to snap into focus as he turns to Gyrfalcon. Unable to help himself, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. "A journey? Are you perhaps following in your namesake's footsteps?"

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon frowned and responded.

 

"My namesake?" He asked, wondering what the young man meant.

 

"You know… Gyrfalcon, that famous half-elven archmage." The response came, Timothy's tone making it obvious that surely this Gyrfalcon had to know of his namesake. At the same time, there was a slight tone of scorn…

 

Gyrfalcon forced down a chuckle "You don't seem to belive in helping others, Timothy."

 

"Better that people help themselves then someone else prop them up." Timothy answered quickly.

 

"But when those people are unable to help themselves, and you can, it is your duty to help them."

 

"Is it? Why should I go out of my way to help people who have never done anything for me?" Timothy responded.

 

Gyrfalcon shrugged and sighed before answering "It is to each person to decide what they want to do for their people. I choose to do everything within my power to save them." Gyrfalcon turned to the Dreamer and nodded "Ready to go?"

[Zadown]

The Dreamer simply nods.

 

"I have been ready for a long time. Let's just go and leave these philosophical talks for the road ... it has been a while since I walked among the mortals, so I might be even intrested enough to join the conversation."

 

The scarred man looks around and grimaces, looking plainly bored by what he sees.

 

"Besides, nothing much else to do down here, in a Prime and on the wrong side of the Crystal."

[Ozymandias]

"Look here Mister Gyrfalcon, I'll have you know...other people." His lip twitches, but only for an instant. Then the haughty calm returns. "Pardon me," he says, stiffly. Timothy turns back to Father Derick. "The people I came with, how are they?" The Father's relaxed expression tightens again. The distraught look he gave was all Timothy needed. "They're dead?", he asks softly.

 

Slipping from gloom to happiness and back again, Father Derick said as reassuringly as he could, "The woman shall yet live, thanks to her arrival here and our wondrous guest," he said with a respectful gesture to the Dreamer, "but the old man was beyond help. I'm sorry."

 

"I see. @#$%. A plague on all fools, I swear," he muttered almost to himself. Whirling on Gyrfalcon, fire leapt back into his eyes. "You presume too much, sir. It is the sort of people who did this to those poor souls who get no help from me. The self-centered and self-absorbed need to be taught that the world does not indeed, revolve around them." As Tim subsided, Gyrfalcon eyed him critically and quietly. Timothy paused to gather himself then started on a different tack with cool bolted in place. He looked to both men, trying his best to look sociable. "I didn't introduce myself properly. I'm Timothy McLaggan, historian by trade and sociologist by fate. I am chronicling society for the monks back home, and Sir... Dreamer, I assume? If what you were offering was an invitation, I would like to join you in your travels.

The two of you seem accustomed movers and shakers, and adventurers (pardon the expression) tend to be the most telling of the largest amount of people." So are wars, but...we'll see, he added silently.

He smiled a small smile at them, not very cheerfully, but without challenge.

[Zadown]

The Dreamer tapped his foot lightly to the ground, impatient to get going, having already waited all night in his room meditating. While Father Derrick and Timothy talked, his mind slipped back to last evening and the choices he made.

 

The old man was beyond undetectable help .. but I guess they don't want to hear that, now do they... Still, looks like healing the others was worth the risk.

 

His gaze wandered aimlessly around the room, not really stopping to admire or register anything, eyes shifting between dull blue and light green. Only when he heard the word "historian" did he sharply turn his attention back to Timothy.

 

"A historian you say? So you know about the past of this particular plane of existence?"

 

The Dreamer's eyes turned deep and vivid emerald green. His tone changed too, from the normal distracted and slow to deeper and more imperial voice.

 

"This might be intresting. And since our scholar with angelic looks is not coming with us, we might need somebody with knowledge in history. I claim a major favour from saving your life - and I request that you honour it by following us on our journey."

 

The planewalker looked like there wasn't even a possibility that things wouldn't go as he said and directed his full gaze to Timothy. Once again in the silence that followed the thin and tall figure of the Dreamer seemed to grow...

[Ozymandias]

The vocal historian looks for something to say and finds nothing in the face of the display. Finally realizing he is staring with his mouth open, he snaps it shut and nods soberly. His dual-hued eyes swirl with thought.

 

"I'll get my- Nevermind, those are lost. I have my shoes, I have my sword, I'm ready."

[Wyvern]

Smiling and nodding to one another, the three adventurers finally decide to depart on their journey. If they could find the monk Jakob that Derick spoke of, they would have a definate lead on the legendary pool...

 

They turn towards the old priest as he lets out a tremendous gale of laughter, which is followed by a violent fit of coughing. He grins, wiping the tears from his eyes, and explains:

 

"Excuse me..." he apologizes "... it's just that I find Timothy's determination quite refreshing! You don't get many heros like that nowadays..."

 

He lets out another laugh and then procedes to escort the adventurers to the church's main entrance. Outside, the priestess Maria had already prepared 3 horses for their departure. The heros thank Derick numerous times for his aid and are about to mount the stallions and commence their quest when the old priest stops them, motioning a hand in the air for silence.

 

"Remember..." says Derick "...what I have told you about faith. May heaven's divine light steer you clear of danger... Amen."

 

With that, the heros bid Derick, Maria and the rest of the Felleros Cathedral (a large gathering of monks had formed outside) farewell. They ride from the Felleros Cathedral down to the Eastern exit of the city and out towards the path to Erindale, in the hopes of finding Jakob when they get there...

 

Derick smiles as he watches the horses slowly fade into tiny specks on the horizon. Entirely confident that the adventurers had set on their quest with righteous intentions, he turns and begins heading back into the church, the crowd following him. He certainly hoped that Jakob would understand how motivated the heros were... Speaking about the Pool had always been a touchy subject for him...

 

------------------------

 

Looking over a map in their possesion, the adventurers notice that Erindale is no more then a 2 days ride away. The scenery of the country side and sunny yet cool weather of September provide perfect riding conditions for the party, and they have a refreshing days ride. The night is uneventfull, and the next day they're full energy and prepared to reach Erindale before nightfall.

 

Sure enough, before night has descended on the second day of travel, the three adventurers have reached the gates of the city of Erindale. At the entrance, they are inspected and interrogated by suspicious guards, but manage to convince them of their innocence. Ultimately, the guards accept the adventurers and they enter the city around nightfall.

 

Unlike Felleros, the architecture of Erindale is almost like an antique history display of a city. There are very few buildings that have been recently constructed, and many date from centuries back. There are also fewer people circulating the streets then in Felleros, and not a hero can be seen. The inn they find to stay in, "The Black Rose - Resting Spot/Pub", looks as if it were on the brink of extinction. When opening the doors to their rooms, the adventurers are afraid of accidentaly ripping them off their hinges...

 

The next morning, after having had a peacefull night of rest, the adventurers meet in the inn's downstairs tavern in order to prepare to find the man they were looking for. Derick had said that Jakob resided in Saint Andrews church located along the outskirts of the city...

 

The bar-tender and inn-keeper notices that the three adventurers (currently his only customers) have awakened, and yawns.

 

"There anything I can help you guys with? Wanna drink?"

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon looked at the bartender and shook his head at the same time as the Dreamer.

 

"I do not have any need of such things." The Dreamer commented, his reply merging with Gyrfalcon's "I prefer not to drink."

 

The bartender scowled at the two of them, and if it were not for the chance that they would buy a meal, would have asked them to leave his inn immediately. Times were bad enough without customers not wanting drinks.

 

Timothy, however, asked for an ale, and the scowl was replaced with a smile as that ale lead to a meal for the half-elf and Timothy, though the Dreamer merely shook his head, almost in exasperation at the needs of their frail bodies, and wandered back up to his room.

 

The meal passed silently between Timothy and Gyrfalcon. They eyed each other when the other was not looking, wary, as if they were facing a strange, foreign creature for the first time…

 

Timothy, who believed that no one ever did anything simply for the cause of good.

 

Gyrfalcon, who would bleed and die for a complete stranger if he thought that would serve the greatest good.

 

Finally, the meal ended, Timothy sipped from his nearly empty mug of ale as Gyrfalcon finished his glass of water. Compelled by the brooding silence, the half-elf looked to Timothy and finally spoke in a soft whisper that did not carry to the bartender, leaning against the bar and looking bored out of his mind.

 

"While the food was good, I can't say much about the service." Gyrfalcon inclined his head slightly, towards where the bartender yawned and shook his head to stay awake. Timothy froze with the mug of ale in front of his face, but Gyrfalcon could see by the way his eyes narrowed and the glint of warmth in there, as well as the way Timothy's shoulders shook, that he was silently laughing in agreement.

 

The two stood and turned upstairs to finish getting ready for the road before collecting their belongings, Gyrfalcon generously lending Timothy a dark brown cloak to wear until they could buy one for him. They knocked on the door of the Dreamer's room, and after a few moments they heard movement inside and he opened the door and stepped past them, not even asking who it was or what they wanted. Gyrfalcon and Timothy exchanged glances and the half-elf shrugged before they trailed after the Dreamer.

 

A few minutes later, they rode out into the street…

[Zadown]

The Dreamer was oblivious to the surroudings as they rode through the town. His eyes had been slowly changing from the more neutral hues of green and blue towards darker, redder colors for a long time now.

 

This entrapment is eating away my self-control. Sooner or later it will snap, no matter what I do. That will mean dead bodies which is of no consequence, but it will also mean that the trackers will see the resulting flash of power .. and my signature all over it. That would be unfortunate...

 

The planewalker shut his eyes for a moment, trying to contain the rising feeling of rage against the unseen and unfelt self-imposed fetters that chained him to this place. As he focused on the rage, he distantly felt some minor magic bleed from between his inner shields. The errant energy manifested itself as ghastly translucent illusionary shapes of demons capering around the pained-looking Dreamer, dissipating slowly at the same time as the planewalker fought against his inner demons. The struggle was brief and didn't show, but when the Dreamer opened his eyes they were the blood-red of violence once again, thin fiery lines between his eyelids. Rage had won.

 

At that point, both Gyrfalcon and Timothy were staring at him, alerted by the ghost-shapes that something was amiss and looking slightly pale - they didn't like the feeling of this. He turned to look first at Gyrfalcon, then at Timothy and spoke with a voice nearly like a snarl:

 

"Who do I have to kill for this journey to proceed quicker?"

 

Gyrfalcon met the gaze.

 

"I doubt killing anybody helps, Dreamer. We will get to the pool when we get there. Just try to hold on."

 

The Dreamer shut his eyes completely and stood perfectly still for some time, this time without any added special effects. When he opened his eyes they were the chilling deep blue of the Void again, his voice falsely calm:

 

"If you say so, m'lord Gyrfalcon. You'd better pray some god I haven't killed yet that you are right."

[Ozymandias]

Regaining his composure, Timothy spoke.

 

"I thank you again, Sir Dreamer, for your invitation. I am truly honored." He paused thoughtfully. "But if I finish this day dead I hardly see what use having a historian around would've been." The Dreamer's head swiveled round to face him almost as though it were on a turnstile. He fixed Timothy with the most intense blank stare he'd ever seen. Less ruffled by the Dreamer's sociopathic eccentricities now that he was convinced the man could and would effortlessly kill him if he so chose, he continued- "You speak of things called 'prime' and 'plane' referring to them as 'this', as though you meant the whole world. I have to admit ignorance in this case. Tell me, what did you mean?"

 

Gyrfalcon remained outwardly calm as they rested their horses there. Inwardly, he tried his best to be prepared for anything from The Dreamer. Timothy simply waited for his death or his answer.

 

Unconsciously, his fingers gripped the reins a little tighter.

[Wyvern]

There is a long moment of silence. The Dreamer stares into Timothy's eyes with his cold, relentless gaze and the brave historian stares back. Neither hero so much as flinches. Gyrfalcon reluctantly edges towards the two of them, trying to think of some way to calm them down...

 

"Excuse me..." inquires a polite voice from near the adventurers "... I was wondering if I could be so rude as to ask you for directions..."

 

Somehow, upon hearing the voice of the stranger, all of the tension in the situation is suddenly distilled. Timothy and the Dreamer suddenly realize that their quarelling is pointless. Timothy grins... and the Dreamer even manages a little smile, despite his increasingly tense state.

 

The three adventurers turn to the source of the sound and are met by a fairly handsome man wearing a dark grey cloak. While his attire suggests that he's been traveling recently, he seems to be more of a scholar then an adventurer (he carries a number of hefty looking books under one of his arms, and doesn't appear to have any sort of weaponry on him). A red bandana is tied tightly over his forehead, and from above it his fair black hair juts jaggedly.

 

"... I apologize for the intrusion, but I've been searching for the antique auctioning grounds for over an hour now and seem to have become hopelessly lost. I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to point me in the right direction?"

 

Gyrfalcon frowns slightly and apologizes "Sorry... but we're not from around here...". The Dreamer and Timothy nod in agreement.

 

"Ah..." mutters the grey-cloaked scholar "... that's a shame... I must make haste. I'm making a speech with Father Andrew at the church tonight and have just learned that they're selling an antique that would be perfect to present as a gift to him. A small statue of a priest from ancient times... the Father very much likes antiques of that sort."

 

"Oh?" inquires Timothy "You're part of the Saint Andrew's church?"

 

"No..." answers the scholar while hastily looking over a map of the city "I just arrived in Erindale a few days ago. But I was invited by the Father to make a speech after having discussed a few verses of the bible with him. He was most impressed by my knowledge, and implored me to join." He grins. "Why do you ask?"

 

The grin of the grey-cloaked scholar is one of warmth and tenderness, and gives the three adventurers a feeling of natural happiness. Timothy begins to answer:

 

"We're actually headed towards the church to inquire about th-"

 

Gyrfalcon shoots Timothy a gaze and the historian suddenly stops in mid-sentance. The charismatic and friendly nature of the grey-cloaked scholar had almost caused him to forgot that they were supposed to reveal their final destination to noone...

 

 

"-the speech tonight." finishes Gyrfalcon smiling "We're looking forward to it. It's a pleasure to meet one of those speaking!"

 

Upon hearing this, the face of the scholar lights up. He does a small half bow and introduces himself. "I am Jagon, a traveling scholar and lover of the church. If you'll excuse me, I need to rush to find that auctioning round and buy that statue... you'll have to forgive me. I look forward to seeing you at the speech tonight, and would love to chat more with you after it's ended. Good luck in your travels!"

 

With that, Jagon smiles, waves, and takes off down an eastward street in a rush to find the auctioning ground. The three heros smile as he dashes away... It was not often that one's goodness shined so brightly through his outward appearence.

[Ozymandias]

As Jagon disappeared from view, Timothy's smile quickly faded into its accustomed grimace. That idealistic, at his age. No good will come of it for him, that's for sure. Poor bastard. Sighing, he tried again.

 

"From the sound of him, we may be here more than one night. Shall we find lodging?"

[Wyvern]

When the sun sets upon Terra and it's rays reflect off of the beautifull stained glass windows of the Saint Andrew's cathedral, many people are so entranced that they stop their current occupations and simply gaze at the emerging systems of colorfull patterns for minutes on end. The ancient and intricatly designed windows of the church are only one of the things that make it such a remarkable site, however. Perhaps the feature that adds to the most to the church's beauty is the amazing structure of the central chambre, which is far different from that of other churches in the region. Rather then having a normal podium from which the priest makes his speeches, there is a platform that extends high above the audience of the church. From this platform, the person giving a speech or recitation can look down upon the numerous spectators as would an emperor to his subjects. In addition, the height of the platform greatly propells the voice of the speaker, and causes it to come across as a powerfull booming echo. Underneath the platform, where the speech podium of a priest would normaly be, is instead an enormous beautifull statue of numerous archangels, raising their swords and singing to the heavens. If one were to inspect other areas of the church, one would find several interesting religious statues such as this one. Saint Andrew was quite fond of statues dating from the antiquities, and was very proud of his collection.

 

If one were to search beyond the breath-taking central chamber of the church, one would find the residencies of various monks, as well as a huge library and study area. Just outside the church, an antique statue depicting the Garden of Eden has been set up as a fountain, and many monks can be seen discussing various subjects in the rose gardens surrounding it...

 

Needless to say, when the adventurers arrived there near sunset on that cold September eve, they were impressed by the church's artistic flair. Without even having met him, the adventurers had already developed a liking for Saint Andrew's taste... although the Dreamer didn't seem to care much. He had other things on his mind...

 

The adventurers spend little time inspecting the church's beauty, however, and instead head straight to business. Inquiring the monks chatting in the rose gardens about the presence of a fellow monk, Jakob, they recieved several curious glances from a number of the crowd. There is a moment of quiet talk and murmer amongst several of the monks, then finally one of them speaks up:

 

"Certainly, I can guide you to Jakob's chambers... but I'm curious of your intentions. What are your relations to Jakob? He rarely recieves any visitors... in fact, I don't think I've EVER seen him visited by anyone before..."

 

The monk then crosses his arms over his chest and patiently awaits a response.

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon smiled disarmingly "We heard that Jakob had knowledge of some old stories. My friend here, Timothy, is a historian, and wishes to talk to Jakob to see if those stories might link to some histories he has unearthed. Its something of an acceptance project he is involved in for a major library in New Muriska."

 

"And why are you two with him?" The man looked at the odd pair- the armored half-elf and the robed and heavily scarred human.

 

"He brought me along for protection- we are friends, after all, and the roads between New Muriska and this wonderful cathedral are long and dangerous. As for the Dreamer, he likewise has an interest in these stories, and we decided to journey together for mutual protection.

 

The monk studied the Dreamer quizzically. "Why is he called 'the Dreamer'?"

 

Gyrfalcon smiled slightly and stepped forward, bringing the monk's attention to him, away from the color changes in the Dreamer's eyes.

 

"What better name for a writes of new epics and stories?" Gyrfalcon asked with a crooked smile. "Now that we have said who we are and why we have come, can we meet this Jakob?"

 

The monk studied the three and looked uncertain "I should go ask… wait here." He strode away swiftly, and Gyrfalcon drew the other two back away from the monks to talk quietly.

 

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?" The Dreamer asked in an emotionless voice. He was simply asking- not approving, nor accusing, just desiring the information.

 

"Because," Gyrfalcon said with a small grimace, "I prefer not to spread our quest to all ears… if people knew that Jakob had some knowledge of what we seek…" he trailed off, letting the two form their own conclusions about how long Jakob would survive if some of the searchers get their hands on him.

 

"Anyway, Timothy, New Muriska is a city I know. You lived in a small, nameless village on the outskirts of the kingdom- they're all the same, so if you've been in one, you've been in them all. I convinced you to apply to the Library there, and they sent you on this quest. You've never been to Muriska if they ask what its like." Timothy nodded.

 

"Dreamer, you can fend for yourself most likely. Just try not to show off your powers too much…" The Dreamer looked at him expressionlessly, but his eyes slowly shifted from color to color before he nodded assent.

 

The monk returned a few moments later, and gathered them together.

 

"Well…" he began.

[Wyvern]

"... Jakob has agreed to meet with you and share his knowledge of tales. If you'd be so kind as to follow me, I can direct you to his chambers..."

 

With this, the monk briskly heads out of the gardens and towards the entrance of the church, the adventurers quickly following in his steps. Upon arriving at the gates of the cathedral, however, the monk comes to a halt and looks at each of the heros earnestly in the face.

 

"You may not under any circumstances enter the church with those..." says the monk, pointing to the katanas of Gyrfalcon and the Dreamer and the bastard sword of Timothy. "If you'd be so kind as to hand your weapons to the paladin tending the front gates, it would be greatly appreciated. "

 

Upon hearing this, the adventurers cast a quick glance to one another. They didn't want to abandone their weapons... yet if they didn't, the monk would surely lose trust in them and they wouldn't be able to meet with Jakob... There really wasn't any other option. Sighing to himself, Gyrfalcon is the first to unseath his katana and place it on the ground next to the paladin, afterwards entering the cathedral. Then comes Timothy, who slowly draws his bastard sword and places it in the appropriate position. Finally, the Dreamer's turn comes. Both Gyrfalcon and Timothy flinch nervously awaiting the Dreamer's reaction, but are relieved when he calmly does as the others have done and places his katana on the growing pile of arms.

 

As each of the adventurers enters the church, the paladin straightens up, salutes the heros, and exclaims "Enjoy your stay in the Saint Andrew's cathedral!"

 

Now inside the church, the monk beckons to the adventurers with one hand and begins guiding them through the enormous cathedral. He leads them through the main chamber, and then down two of the central corridors of the church. Branching from one of the central corridors is a smaller hall, which he heads down. Finally, the adventurers reach an oak door and the guiding monk stops.

 

"Enjoy your meeting with Jakob..." mutters the monk "... he is quite skilled in the feild of history, and will hopefully be able to give you some insight to certain ancient tales. Your weapons will be kept at the front of the church until you leave, at which point you need but point out the one that is yours to retrieve it."

 

The adventurers nod to this and thank the monk for his directions as he leaves down the hall the opposite way from which he came. They briefly look to one another once again, and Gyrfalcon is about to knock on Jakob's door when it is suddenly opened from the inside...

 

Standing at the doorway is a monk cloaked in a black robe casual for monks of the cathedral. He wears spectacles, and quickly brushes a wave of overgrown dark brown hair from his face. Smiling cheerfully and turning to the adventurers, he warmly extends a hand in greeting:

 

"Greetings! I am Jakob Feredegger, the monk I believe you three were seeking..."

 

"Indeed" says Gyrfalcon, smiling and shaking Jakob's hand.

 

"Please feel free to come into my humble abode and make yourselves at home. What do you think of the church? Is it not beautifull?"

 

"It certainly is..." remarks Timothy, entering Jakob's room and seating himself on a chair.

 

...

 

After Jakob and the adventurers have settled in and made themselves comfortable, Jakob begins:

 

"Very well... Now how may I be of assistance to you wandering scholars...? I've heard that the library of New Muriska is magnificent..."

[Zadown]

When leaving his weapon to the paladin, the Dreamer muttered an activation word and smiled inwardly when a rune shone brighter than the others for a fleeting moment.

 

I hope nobody touches my weapon ... the Benefical Dragon has a nasty bite even when I do not wield it.

 

He walked behind the others and sat down after Timothy, looking slightly annoyed at the slowness of everything as usual.

 

When Jakob had finished speaking, the Dreamer made a quick sideways chopping motion with his right hand and spoke before Gyrfalcon or Timothy had time to speak. His eyes darkened as his almost barked:

 

"New Muriska is irrelevant. We were sent here by Saint Derick to ask about Rainbow Vale, to find the Pool of Eternal Reflection. Tell us what you know."

 

He stared at the monk.

[Wyvern]

Upon the Dreamer's mentioning of the Rainbow Vale and the Pool of Eternal Reflection, Jakob's cheerfullness instantly fades away into nothingness. The smile previously complementing his visage vanishes, and Jakob stares angrily into the eyes of the Dreamer. After a long moment of silence, the monk finally manages:

 

"Get out of my chamber."

 

Dreamer doesn't shift his position, nor does his facial expression change. Gyrfalcon frowns and Timothy fidgets nervously in his seat.

 

"Wha-" begins Timothy.

 

"I said GET OUT!!!" cries an outraged Jakob, tossing an old text he was holding to the ground in anger and stomping one foot on the ground in rage. "I don't know where you heard of the Rainbow Vale-"

 

"As I said, Derick informed us of it." interrupts the Dreamer coldly.

 

"Is Derick not an old friend of yours?" inquires Gyrfalcon to the monk.

 

"He is..." growls Jakob in a tone partially filled with shock and partially with anger "... but even old friends can make mistakes! I honestly can't believe he directed you to me! Has the old man lost his head?! He knows better then to hint at the whereabouts of the Pool to adventurers!"

 

"But why won't you-"

 

"The Pool if Eternal Reflection has destroyed my life." interrupts Jakob angrily "I think I have every right to refrain from talking about it!"

 

Having said this, Jakob mutters something in disgust and then storms out of his room and down the hall, not even bothering to shut or lock the doors to his chamber behind him...

[Gyrfalcon]

Gyrfalcon sat down on the old man's bed, stunned. well, *that* wasn't what I was expecting at all… he thought to himself. Without Jakob's help, though, he doubted they would be able to ascertain the location. He glanced around the room and shook his head. If the Pool had destroyed Jakob's life, he doubted the old man would keep any tomes to its location near himself, certainly not in his room. With a sigh, Gyrfalcon stood again and looked to the Dreamer and Timothy. "So, any ideas?"