| Opening his eyes, Pallando awoke. Looking about he saw a mirror, and, looking into it he did not recognize the reflection. He didn't remember the room he was in, he didn't remember falling asleep, he didn't remember anything. His breathing started to quicken, there were no doors, no windows, no ways out. He was trapped, trapped with no memories, he began to panic. Then he remembered something... a small thing that he had been taught as a child. Laughter, a memory, he latched onto it... he was in school... learning, learning to... use magic he thought, to shape the world, to make it as he pleased. He had just created a flower from the air, and being gallant handed it to one of the females that were present. Latching on to that memory, he knew what to do, and he closed his eyes again and let his breathing slow, entering a trance he looked into his own mind. There, in the realm of the metaphysical he found his answers. He stood in a room made of stone, empty, plain, cold... nothing filled it. A door there was, on the far side, he approached it and found it locked. None but the possessor of the proper key could open it. The door hid his mind, it was his mind, he was the key. Opening the door filled the room, he remembered who he was, where he was, and what he had to do. Taking only what he would need from the room, he locked the rest away. Locking away the temptation to call upon the skills that he had. He knew that the image in the mirror was himself now, no longer a being of light and air, he looked mortal and aged, ragged frail, and wise. Opening his eyes he looked about, saw the room as it really was, and advanced on the door. Opening it, he found a path that led down to the water... and there a boat. He boarded the boat, looked back once more, sighed, and wondered if he was destined to return. It was with a heavy heart that Pallando, once a near-god, now bound by promises not to reveal his nature, set out on his journey. He was to guide the nations of budding creation, to see to it that it fell not into shadow, and to wait for his brother. When his brother came, then their real mission would begin. He knew not how long the wait would be, but had already lived beyond spans uncounted and would live many more. Time passed before him and he resigned himself to it. Years meant nothing to one such as him, he would succeed. The ship was borne swiftly upon the wings of magic. Its great sails remained full even when others around him would have been becalmed. There were no others, the trip he made was through waters that were uncharted, for no reason other than desolation. None knew what were beyond them, no he reflected, some knew... himself and a few of the elder race. He sat quietly in the middle of the deck. Enjoying the feel of wind and sun. He sat unmoving... if it wasn't for a slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed one could think him dead. Each mile that he covered, each measure of distance that he placed between himself and his former home strengthened his resolve to finish his mission successfully. Suddenly he was broken from his reverie by a bird call. He realized that he was almost there. Standing slowly, he brought the ship to shore... stopping it before it became beached, he stepped off and entered the water. Moving quickly towards shore, he arrived in short order, and stepped out, still prefectly dry. Looking back at the ship that had borne him here, he raised his hands, brought them together, then quickly separated them. The ship slid back into the water, sailed out perhaps 200 feet, then slowly sank into the deep. There it would wait, until he needed it, or one other of the craft did. Turning slowly about, he wondered at this land, so different than his own. Why he was here he knew, but how to accomplish it, he didn't. His nature was not one of humbleness or guidance. It was one of action and strength. Yet he was here to guide the lesser races, not to rule them. He wondered how he would do, and he wondered what would happen should he fail... would others come? Or was he a last hope for their misguided children? Well, he thought, it is time. Taking one last look in the direction of home, he took up his staff, and he slowly headed toward the nearest town. He arrived at the edges of the city Eglarest as the day faded into dusk. People were closing down shops and market stalls for the night. Most were already heading to houses on the outskirts, but a few, merchants and travelers like himself were headed toward the various inns. Upon entering the town, his senses were assaulted with a gammut of colours. The dress of the people ranged from plain earthen colours to those of bright reds and greens. Thinking back, he remembered his home, colour, and sight with it, weren't so much a physical sense... no they were intangibles. They existed on a much more subtle level than these eyes could detect. Moving into the crowd he saw that it was made up of men and elves... and there was a presence, something else... far older. Deciding to investigate it in due time, he slowly made his way into the town. Choosing an inn at random, he entered and was quickly shown a seat by the fire. Ordering a bowl of the house soup, a half loaf of bread, and a glass of wine, he sat back and slowly took in what surrounded him. There it was again... a fleeting impression of age, he couldn't place it but knew it was nearby. Further searching was halted by the arrival of his food. He thanked the young serving lass, and dug in, using pieces of bread to eat the soup. It was as good as promised. Washing down the meal with the last of the wine, we looked about the establishment. Searching with both his eyes and his mind. Off to one side, he saw a man in green, no a green man, sitting by himself with two mugs... he must be waiting for someone... he passed him by, wondering about his conditions, and noting to look for him again the following day. Finding nothing more that was out of the ordinary, he ended his search. Motioning over to the young lass again and asked to be shown to a room available for the night. Preferably a quiet one, with a window. |