wooz

"And yet, in the end they'll come back to us when they find out the true plans of the Azdrazi." The likewise golden-eyed twin of Aeolus, Hileia would speak into the lab, tending to the candle of Nehtamo.

[!] This note would be left in the room of Ahnakriel's drakeshrine, and therefore is only accessible to him and whomever he shows it to. persvek jacida letnic tir si faestir When I was but a boy, not long after seven, my father took me into our yard. He thrusted a sword into my hand and told me of duty and purpose. Words and ideas that were meaningless to my mind at the time. But, oh, how they would come back to me in many years time. Duty the thing all men are a slave to. Purpose, the one not all acknowledge to an extent that isn't one of idle passing. Many years later, in my, hopefully, pious and leal service to the Black Titan. When you sent me to the firelands on pilgrimage for a year to meditate. I took it as a pilgrimage of repentance, for my failure in killing the Paladin. I took it in stride, and hope, for I was self-flagellating myself already. I won't be dishonest and say it was an easy journey. You said not to bring anything but the clothes on our backs and I followed that to a Tee. When I made it to the Firelands I spent my first few months getting acquainted with the land I'd spend a year in. I found sources for water and food. All that was needed of me from then was my meditating and a spot. My spot I found was in a deep cave, full of bubbling lava, I went to the end of the cave, sat under a ruined banner and caved-in tunnel. There I sat, where it was hottest, meditating on Heralds past and the riddle you posed to us. I must admit, it was hard, I never considered myself one for philosophy. But month after month passed in that hot cave, where I let flame dance and lick upon my flesh with no answer. I begged and prayed to Him to help me understand, but He was silent to me as He should've been. But at my wits end, in the lowest of lows, the darkest of pits, covered in ash and burns in a cave full of the sounds of bubbling and roiling magma it came to me. Duty, was the answer. Duty, all men have one to something. But it is duty with purpose that separates blind faith, the flames that devour and beat down all. From an everlasting eternity born from flames that love and respect. Those who have duty without purpose do not know what it is that drives their sword through a king's neck. It is what leads men to so easily change their minds upon who to follow. But purpose, oh, purpose this is the missing key to lead men of blind faith to one of everlasting loyalty and eternity. Loyalty, drive, truth, all facets of purpose. The wind has duty in how it blows the grass, trees and flowers. But it is purpose that is what gives wind its force to be a destructive power. My purpose, I know, is to be as the wind to Him, and give His enemies a gale to reckon the consequences with. I am loyal in my duty to Him, as well as I am not, or no longer, ignorant to my purpose in mine service to Him. What there is now is only understanding. The mixture of duty and purpose, though limited, I am in mine shortcomings as just a man. But I can at least say that I understand this to be true. - Your faithful tool and hand in His service, Cædmon.

"Unity or Blood I guess means nothing to some. If we are tasked with the death of Azdromoth we should be together like what was demanded of those of the past." Hileia would say, reading the missive.

Reformat please lol, but otherwise +1 would like to see this, would drive me to play my seer again

please, i want this.

". . .I don't want to wear a hat and have darkspawn see me coming from a ways away." Sighs a tired Hileia of Arbi'a. Preparing a hat anyway, ever one to follow the creeds.

A man sat in his home. Kneeling on stones in idle prayer and self-punishment in his failure. Vowing to himself and to the memory of the Nephilim to do better, to hunt down that Xannic slave and finish what was asked of him.

"Well, Aaun does have dragons in its crest. It's at least fitting for them." The other alchemist in the lab would comment back to the man as she toiled away with her own tinctures.

Hileia smiles as her friends Aeolus and Amelia would be mentioned.

"Stop milking squids, Father." A man would say in idle prayer.

A one-eyed man would stand in an empty library, smiling wide and humming as his ears were filled with a crescendo of flies. A memory fading in and out. Experiences melding in a moment. As he wondered, read, learned, listened, and watched he remembered. "Ah, a shame that. Well, as is life." He would finish his thought, with a sigh for the dead.