<font color='698AAB'>Quarter: Tria Day: 28th Year: 81377 // Saeroth Anwamanë \\ Sig #8 ~ Male ~ 4300 Primary Trade ¤ Ranger (M) Secondary Trade ¤ Weaponry Specialist (M) \\ IC The middle-aged pendragon pads gently into the open temple. Immediately, a wafting calm floats over him, as if inside this ancient building, nothing of the outside world mattered. He liked this feeling. He didn't feel so alone when he was here, and he felt a pang to be near this temple when he was away. But range he must, as staying in one place meant giving away his position and existance to the world, and the dangers to him would never be over. A rogue to his family, and hero to others, this soft-spoken male, with full lion ruff 'round his gentle amber neck, had denied his birthright, and disobeyed direct orders from a family who didn't really love him. They trained him to use him, like their parents did them. Vicious circle that this male had never wanted any part of. That was all in the past, though. He enjoyed his freedom, and he didn't miss his family, if one could truly call those blood-suckers that. He was an aristocrat by birth; one of noble blood. No matter how much he tried to hide it, nobility shined through. Ironically enough, he was the only one in his family who truly deserved this unmistakable aura, for he was the only one kind enough to weild this unnatural charisma. Alone he went, his masters in weapons making him a rival to no other. He was quite safe on his own. Lonely at times. But then, that's why he was here. To feed his lonliness by praying to the great goddess, and resting a while in her serene temple. Perhaps he'd find a priest or priestess to converse with during his short stay. Then again, perhaps he would have a vision, or dream. Saeroth Anwamanë was not one to make predictions, he simply took life as it came to him, one day at a time. Therefore, having stopped for a long, wonderful moment in the doorway, Saeroth, tiger-marked on lion pelt and frame, the amber and chocolate colored wingless pendragon moves silently across the floor, intending to take a stroll first, then come back to the main room to pray.</font>
<font color='#810541'>Ziarch lay basking in the sun that filtered through the openings in the walls. He lay on a sort of windowsill a few feet above the ground, his body stretched on its side to fully absorb the suns rays and his feathered wings lay sprawled on the sill above his back. The handsome assassin's long pale blue hair was tied back by, for once, a simple piece of sinew. The silver-grey of his coat was disrupted by a number of golden "tiger stripes", lined with black that only helped accent his already streamlined body. Ziarch's teal eyes rolled down towards the temple entrance as another male entered, seeming to be at total peace with his surroundings. An unusual look for one who was wandering around by himself. Then again not so strange in a temple where everything was peaceful and anyone who disturbed the peace was quickly... removed. The assassin watched the stranger, only his tail moving in a slow lazy arc behind him, as he followed the slowly moving male 'dragon with his eyes. There was something about this particular pendragon that caught Ziarch's attention. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, or the unusually thick 'mane' that surrounded his neck. Most likely it was the way he moved. A light, flowing step that most resembled a stroll, if one could say pendragons were capable of such a carefree walk. Ziarch smiled to himself as he considered that even he was allowing himself to relax in the soothing aura of the temple. Something he did on only the rarest of occasions. The fact that someone else had actually shown up at the temple had surprised Ziarch. Not many beings visited this particular temple anymore. Like all things, its time was running out. The cocky pendragon’s thoughts ran in circles in his head. Once again they returned to the same question, Why exactly is he here? In an unusual spurt of curiosity Ziarch leapt from his resting space and jumped to the ground behind the other male. He stretched in a vain attempt to show off before yelling to the ‘dragon in front of him. ”Oy! You there. What exactly are you doing here?” Ziarch was quite aware that the question could have come across as a great many things. Challenging, rude, and/or just plain ignorant were only a few. The bored, arrogant voice didn’t exactly clear up what he meant behind those words either, but that was the kind of games Ziarch played. Depending on how the simple, yet demanding question was taken would, in Ziarch’s mind, tell him a great deal about the stranger. In contradiction to his seemingly blunt and direct attitude, Ziarch often took great care in reading the smaller yet much more truthful things others said and did.</font>
<font color='698AAB'>\\ OOC: Hi! \\ IC Saeroth, who'd both sensed the landing, and heard the voice, pauses his fluid stroll. Without completely turning around, nor looking directly at the pendragon behind him, he tilts his head slightly over the left shoulder, directing his voice behind him, so he could be heard. No doubt it would also echo rather well, even if he didn't. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"Such a question, with so many possible answers."</span> The middle-aged 'dragon speaks in a musing tone, as if conversing softly to himself, but unmistakably speaking with the other male, due the volume of his quip. The amber hued 'dragon slowly turns halfway, the speed of his turn both because he felt no urge to be in a hurry, nor did he want his intentions to face the other male mistaken for a challenge. In turning, he presents his left side to the other, remaining on all fours, then sitting, lazy tail swishing slowly behind him, the flame burning golden. Either he was incredibly calm for such a possibly tense and explosive situation; almost comatose in his reactions, or he was very capable of concealing his feelings. Saeroth raises his dark eyes to try and meet the teal oculars of the other, not meaning any immediate threat, intimidation technique, or however else it could and would be interpreted. Just intending politeness in not avoiding his gaze, as he'd always been tought to not fidgit, nor stare at the floor. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"And.. suppose you didn't like the answer I gave you. What would you do in good conscience then?"</span> a small smile blooms at the corner of his muzzle.</font>
<font color='#C0C0C0'><table border="1" bordercolor="#EEEEEE" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="350"><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF><center></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF><p align="left"><span style="font-size:9px;color:#000000;font-family:tahoma">------{[; <b style=color:#275972>Thread[/b]<b style=color:#202020>Information[/b] ;]}---------------------------------------------------------------------- <b style=color:#000000>Character [[/b] Isis Shi'falcahima <b style=color:#000000>Speech [[/b] <b style=color:#808000>"In parenthesis & bolded"[/b] <b style=color:#000000>Thoughts [[/b] <font color="#808000">[Plain text in brackets]</font> <b style=color:#000000>Telepaths [[/b] <b style=color:#808000>{In brackets & bolded}[/b] ------{[; <b style=color:#275972>Out[/b]<b style=color:#202020>Of[/b]<b style=color:#275972>Character[/b] ;]}--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hope you don't mind Isis dropping in XD I haven't roleplayed seriously in so long oo; I'm rusty... Forgive me for that. </span></left></tr></td></table> <table border="1" bordercolor="#EEEEEE" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="350"><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF><p align="left"><span style="font-size:9px;color:#000000;font-family:tahoma">------{[; <b style=color:#275972>In[/b]<b style=color:#202020>Character[/b] ;]}--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was the pale pigmentation of alabaster that shattered the enigmatic nadir in which a solitary physique had meandered. Opaque oculars of onyx chromatism gravitated upon the two male 'dragons, scrutinizing every modicum detail of their existence; the creature's gaze tranquil as the encompassing vicinity, though such context mattered not. She had been here before them, though had not been noticed for her physical anatomy was enshrouded behind the monolithic columns that held up the majestic structure of this very temple. Now she had absconded from the falsified safety of those stone obstructions and into the obscurity which did little to cloak her lithe frame of an achromatic hue. Than a sense of remembrance flogged her mental perception, something profoundly eccentric... Had she not met this tiger-like masc? Yes... Through visions, but such journeys, adventures, friends and foe she had encountered through the Fronmia realm were enshrouded away in the foremost segmentation of her mentality. Not lost nor deemed forgotten but simply needed to be remembered, the femora needed something to trigger such memories... However that would be difficult, thus the she creature was left with nothing more than mere feelings, things she sensed though had not the confidence to believe. This female's name twas Isis Shi'falcahima, though the others of this temple simply called upon her as Isis — a priestess of this temple her entire life... Though what did that matter? Lofty auds of acicular value twitched upon every given oral exchanged between the two, and whilst her auditory perception detected the intonations that reverberated throughout her serene abode the she 'dragon gathered the courage to step forth from the atramentous shadows. She listened as sonorously arrogant orals twas received and than replied by the latter with a musing tone, such an answer from the masc made an asymmetrical grin crinkle across svelte jowls. The femme observed for a little longer, scrutinizing their movements with stilled orbs of onyx, and than she observed as the second phrase flowed from the masc's larynx... Lovely were such words which like a puzzle fit perfectly together to manifest sentences that this creature found a profound pleasure to listen to. Yet something intrigued her senses, had she not heard that vocal sonancy before? Saeroth's voice reverberated through her mind though she failed to apprehend anything... Arising leniently from the laying posture she had presently been in the female ascended upon diminutive pedicles. Her greyhound-like physique reticently moved upon the marble flooring whilst the locomotion from ginger movements caused her anatomy to flow like curves as she traipsed. The auriferous bands of gold which entwisted around her svelte limbs were bound tightly thus made not a solitary sonancy; the femora's eccentric mane radiated from the surmount of her cranium, falling off the periphery of her facial complexion like the waters flowing through a reconciled brook. The tendrils that composed of her mane golden like the numerous rings that entwisted her limbs; the beryl glass beads which were braided into the filaments of her hair added yet more to her exquisite appeal. As she approached with her habitual docile and taciturn stride the smile that had once caressed her gentle muzzle ceased while the female at best tried to masquerade what flogged her mentality. She balked a few feet away, the femme was close enough to espy clearly though far enough to not occupy their personal space. Isis was taught to respect all, it was her duty, her destiny to lead a "sinless" life, though such was impossible and perhaps ludicrous to meander upon... Never the less, she listened and than... Replied... <b style=color:#808000>"...Such inquires which twas spok'n each possesses numerous possibilities, do they not m' lords?"[/b] Her voice melodious, lenient, a whisper it seemed yet it twas not... Her comment nothing more than something random, Isis often had things to vociferate though rarely did so... This was an erratic exemption. She admired Saeroth's well chosen words, which twas scintillating clearly within even her obsidian oculars. To lessen the chances of her thoughts being so easily read the female's cranium aswell as gaze twas inclined to the ground as twas habitual. She'd look at them if they spoke back, but if not she'd remain in her position... Ready of course to aid them if such twas needed. </span></left></tr></td></table><center></font>
<font color='#810541'>*EDIT* I wrote this before you posted Mitecha but didn't finish until after you had. *grins* What a mess. I'll try to fix up what I can. Hope it makes sence IC: The answer Ziarch received for his question both pleased and irritated him. The vagueness of it rivaled that of his own which was something he had come across very few times in his travels and took this particular pendragon up more notches in respect than he could ever know. Most pendragons would show an attitude that Ziarch considered quite shallow by either attacking or ignoring him. The fact that this particular 'dragon didn't even bother turning around to state his reply amused Ziarch greatly and once again he felt curiosity itching at the back of his mind. The fact that he had been read so easily on the other hand troubled Ziarch. Surely he was not as easy to read as the others he had so often laughed at! Answering question for question, huh? Who are you that you can read me so? The assassin took note of the polite eye contact made and quickly came to the conclusion that this particular male was of a high class. Unlike himself he both looked and WAS the part. Ziarch sat, replicating the relaxed stance of the other with only a few minor changes. His tail with its blue-white flame continued to wave behind him betraying his thoughts. Ziarch also turned his eyes away from those of the other. The cool look was another that spoke depths to him. Whoever this 'dragon was he was totally accepting of who he was. Something that unnerved Ziarch greatly. Instead he studied the other male. The other had the look and "air" of a noble, but he did not have the indifference, nor the political mask that hid all. He was calm and collected in his reactions and really just didn't seem like a noble. The difference was impossible to pin point but it was there. A voice to the side startled him. It was soft and belonged to one of the priestesses of the temple. Ziarch glanced over at her form, her head and eyes both were tilted towards the ground. He snorted and turned back to the male. His speech however was aimed at both. My own reaction is not something that I can say as I do not know what it would have been I would have reacted too. But this you already know and as such we find ourselves talking in circles... To answer your question best I can; there would have been no answer I can truthfully say I didn't like. No matter what you would have said, or done, it would have given me what I sought. Just as your question for a question, which I thank you for, has ansewered me what I wanted... Indirectly as that may be. He paused, meeting the dark orbs of this other and searching their depths for some hint as to what he was thinking. Very cautiously Ziarch continued, still in the airy, bored and over-confident tone. I still, however, have nothing to call you by and so would I be correct in calling you sir, noble? Or perhaps not, for you do not seem, if you will excuse this simpleton, as arrogant and pompous as the others. Ziarch smirked, quite happy with himself. It had been a long time since he had had a worthy opponent for sparing by word rather than body and even longer since he had been beaten at it. This opponent, if his hunch was correct, could be quite a match as long as he stayed around. Ziarch dearly hoped he would. Not only was he aching for a good challenge, but his curiosity was just itching away.</font>
<font color='698AAB'>\\ OOC: Makes perfect sense to me! Welcome back to the land of RP 'Techa! \\ IC Halfway to Fronima, or half-lived, depending on optomistic and pessimistic, or even realistic, views, this particular pendragon had learned much. Turning his head to watch the approach of the priestess, not far from his own middle-numbered age, he can't help but wonder if he'd ever seen her before.. Certainly not in reality; for while he'd been a regular visitor to this temple for ages, normally he'd never been talked to, or if he was cought in conversation, it never lasted long. His calm smile continues, as the priestess speaks. True. Very true. Both their questions could have a hundred possibilities, in all theoretical equations. But, wasn't that the purpose of a question? To find out, out of a million possibilities, which one a 'dragon believed to be true. The other male's answer is also listened too, and Saeroth's smile endures. He was starting to like this male, moreso than simple acceptence of his full right to exist and be free. His speech was refined, no matter his background, and he had proven in a short paragraph his skull wasn't filled with dust. Saeroth always did appreciate those that bettered themselves, no matter their trades. A thief was equal to a politician, in Saeroth's mind, as both steals what does not belong to them. But for the thief, his goal was truer in Saeroth's opinion, he stole to make a living. A politician, in his experience, generally stole to take a living from another. Nobles were not as different as they liked to think, nor better than the 'scum' they often mocked. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"If you excuse my use of the word, I happen to enjoy far greater the company of 'simpletons'. They tend to be truer to themselves, which is something I value above all else."</span> After a slight pause, he continues, <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"I generally dislike the bowing and grovelling, and air of change in a room when one is denoted as 'sir', in an expectation of higher authority rather than simple politeness. Thus why not instead call me by a name that is my own, and was many a time unable to be erased?"</span> Saeroth was unsure if his surname would shock or please these two fellow 'dragons. Many 'commoners' knew his family name, and detested it. And fewer still knew who he was; a rebel of his family, and 'disgrace' to the name among noble circles, for as son as he rebelled, his family disowned him, and ceased speaking of his high achievements; for there were many. Assassins had been paid to get rid of him, and unfortunately for them, when they would not give up, were never heard from again - Saeroth would not go quietly, nor give his relatives the satisfaction of hearing he was rotting in a bloody mess somewhere where they would never visit, for fear of dirtying their paws. Not knowing the reactions he would get, he finishes his short speech with revealing his name, and hopefully satisfying a curiosity, when many more endless-answer questions would then be asked. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"My name is Saeroth Anwamanë. Best known in higher circles as a disgrace and a rebel. The opinions of others could not be polled, for their opinions are all very different enough to not make up a good sized margin of approval or disapproval. The only unaninmous vote was by the nobles of which I once was a part."</span> A mild smirk toys at the edge of his muzzle, eyes glittering with ironic joy at his own self-accusation. He does not yet ask for their names, waiting to see if they would offer theirs, if they were more guarded and a question would need to be asked, or if their reactions would verge on chaos at hearing his own name. If the latter, a quick escape, if not a fight, would likely ensue, and Saeroth never liked knowing the name of those he physically fought. It added too much of a personal touch, and while he would never hesitate the final blow, as that would mean his own swift death and entrance to Fronima which he considered himself not yet ready to enter, his conscience would hound him forever, and proper gifts and condolences would be given to any family of the dead that Saeroth could find.</font>
<font color='#810541'>The silver ‘dragon was shocked and it showed in the deep breath he took and quick step back. There he paused, unused to being surprised, and stayed balanced on his hind legs as eyes that were opened wide in surprise slowly shrunk to mere slits as he once again looked over the other male. This time, however, the search was much more than a simple gathering of information. When Ziarch was finally done examining the other his decision was quickly and easy reached. A wide grin slowly spread across his features as he settled back down into semi-bored stance he had taken before. His head leaned to the side in the direction of the priestess. ”Well, it seems that we have picked the last fruit from this particular tree, but I am afraid that Saeroth here may have just planted us an orchard!” He laughed, the deep rumbling sound filled the large room, banishing the silence that had previously enveloped it. Then he turned back to the so-said rebel, a grin still plastered on his face. ”It seems our word games have come to an end, for the time being I can only hope, and you, I believe, have won the match. Saeroth Anwamanë indeed! Unlike yourself my name has been erased by something far less potent than time, so you may call me simply Ziarch. I have no home, nor a past that I can recall, but no reason to cry over it as you yourself seem to know all to well. I have been called everything from assassin to savior and I will not hide that I have done some things that I am not proud of, but in my mind could not have been avoided. Think what you will of me and I will do the same of you. Perhaps in time we shall know what one thinks of the other. The grin fell into a bemused smirk. He hoped that Saeroth and the female could appreciate the irony of the situation. If not, it was an amusement wasted. Saeroth truly intrigued the younger ‘dragon. He had heard of the noble that ran and the family had even attempted to recruit him to exact revenge. Something that made bile rise in Ziarch’s throat. Never would he understand how they could turn on their own because of a different decision. Their offer had been refused and even from that point the name of Saeroth had demanded a certain amount of respect from Ziarch and the pendragon himself had not been a disappointment. I have heard that the temple and its surrounding area is quite nice. Shall we walk, Saeroth? I believe that is what you were about to do before we met and, He turned to the priestess. If the priestess would be so kind as to join us? I know very little of this area and would enjoy learning more. Ziarch stood and once again stretched, awaiting answers from both.</font>
<font color='#C0C0C0'><table border="1" bordercolor="#EEEEEE" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="350"><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF><center></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF><p align="left"><span style="font-size:9px;color:#000000;font-family:tahoma">------{[; <b style=color:#275972>Out[/b]<b style=color:#202020>Of[/b]<b style=color:#275972>Character[/b] ;]}--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hehe. So slow I am XD Thankies Zeva! Bad RP oo; I had to hurry because now I must sign off XD Ouch XD I wrote this right after you did Strom XD I didn't know you had just replied. </span></left></tr></td></table> <table border="1" bordercolor="#EEEEEE" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" width="350"><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor=#FFFFFF><p align="left"><span style="font-size:9px;color:#000000;font-family:tahoma">------{[; <b style=color:#275972>In[/b]<b style=color:#202020>Character[/b] ;]}--------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She watched leniently while reclining upon svelte hackles, their colloquy seemed more like a debate rather than that of the mere phrase long conversations she was accustomed to in this tranquil abode. Isis didn't speak often and neither did anyone else here, which explained without demur why Saeroth rarely interacted in conversation with those whom branded this sanctuary home... Never-the-less unlike her pendragon counterparts whom were busy attending the altars and related indicia, Isis remained to observe and listen intently. Ah... Thieves and politicians... Though Isis quite despised politicians even with her limited knowledge of the outside realm. Seeing that thieves did indeed steal, some to make a living and others just to give in to their temptations... They often steal material objects, things that usually could be replaced. But politicians take sonorously without regret the rights of people, the very way in which they live... Of course, Isis' opinion didn't matter at least she was taught to keep to herself, something she had already broke with the previous sentence she had openly let escape her larynx... Sheer guilt was her consequence, thus she vowed to remain silent least she was spoken too... The female would listen and indeed listening was far better than words in her mentality. Empennage entwisted around svelte hackles in thought and observation, a middle-aged 'dragon she was though few would guess. Her entire physical anatomy shown no signs of age and sonorously was like that of a creature in their 2 000's. Eccentric perhaps, though it really mattered not to herself or those whom knew her. Ziarch's escaped through parted jowls only to be answered once more, as they talked the femme listened... She was taking pleasure in their words and hearing things that individual's said that she never heard in this temple of almost pure silence. Perhaps she'd learn something of the outside world by just intently taking in the orals that where exchanged between the two. Isis would fail to know the last name of Saeroth, so him supposedly 'disgracing' his family's name she'd know not of. Isis had never known her family, she had lived here nearly her entire life from infancy, thus she was robbed of amany things that normal individuals would receive without thought. Things they'd take for granted — the freedom to go where they deemed, the blessed permission to attend an academy... And even just seeing the sights that Ramath-Lehi had to offer. Worse perhaps was the fact this female possessed little knowledge of the dangers which enshrouded this slowly decaying world... Take Ziarch the assassin, she'd never know his occupation even if he vividly stated it, this female would simply fail to believe or comprehend. Whatever her problems were, they didn't seem to be the worst... So in the actuality of the context she continued to live the life she knew best, even if it did 'rob' her off the essential things of life. 'Saeroth Anwamane' the branding she had heard before, fragments of memories flogged her mentality causing the female to close her eyes in slight distress... Though these second memories only lasted a matter of seconds and were even more perplexing for she was seeing, hearing, and feelings things out of order... Isis merely sat taciturnly, taking in his name but not saying anything nor responding by any means. Auds flattened upon alabaster pericranium not over the fact of hearing his name and what he had said but rather sheer thoughts that cycled her mentality, though Saeroth would probably take her silence and supposedly abrupt lack of interest as if she disapproved of him and what he had done. Though she knew nothing of his past nor even his family branding, she was bewildered, nothing more nor less. Isis failed to tell them her name, her own mentality seemingly elsewhere in an isolated realm of inner thought thus she was temporarily oblivious to them or so it seemed. Fights the she 'dragon took no pleasure in, though her remarkable ability of regeneration left her an extremely hard individual to maim or kill. She couldn't physically 'battle' but her profound healing powers did all to make up for her lack of knowledge in such a field. Isis despised the Fronmia as seeing her soul often entered the realm against her will, this was because she had remarkably strong inner sight powers yet she knew not how to control them... In her youth when Isis deemed to learn how to control, manipulate, and manifest her powers, her authorities refused her requests to go to an academy or learn underneath the watch of a master. Thus she was left with powerful abilities of the Fronmia and without a modicum clue as how to control them. </span></left></tr></td></table><center></font>
<font color='698AAB'>Saeroth, never quite caught offguard, so to speak, but a small part of him temporarily concerned. Both seemed, at very least, surprised. Fighting was always a last resort in his mind, and whenever it could be avoided, he would. He'd witnessed too many "accidents" of political rivals to have a thirst for it. Which was the main reason he left in the beginning. Moments later, he'd realized he had no need to worry, for if he wasn't mistaken, he'd just found a companion, no matter how temporary, considering Saeroth's urge to roam. The priestess, however, seemed pained, hurt by the sound of his name, perhaps. Ears pinned close to her skull, eyes tightly shut. He would never question her on the subject of her reaction, for ex-noble or not, it was his weapons training that kept him to one oath of respect for others, and interrogating a lady on her private thoughts was not done, under that oath. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"Well met, then, Ziarch!"</span> he smiles, <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"I believe most 'dragons who exist have done things they wished they hadn't. I know I have done many. But equally, there are just as many, and usually more things, to be proud of, even if they aren't realized. A kind act can sometimes completely change a life, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem to the doer.</span> <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"Quite obviously, you have nothing to fear of my judging you harshly; I've been judged in my life enough that I find there is no point in it. No two are alike, thus there will always be differences that irk, and similarities that you crave for the purpose of easy conversation. Seek the company of those you can tolerate, and avoid the ones you cannot."</span> Smiling quite happily, Saeroth stands from his seated position, <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"You're right, I was planning on walking a bit, and the grounds, as I remember, are a very beautiful sight to behold at any time of year. I fail to remember my way around, though, as I haven't been here in many years."</span> That said, he looks to the priestess, encouraging the offer Ziarch gave her first, <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"I'm in agreement with Ziarch; if you have the desire to join us, you are most welcome."</span></font>
<font color='#810541'>OOC: We seem to be having trouble colliding while we post, eh Mitecha? Ummmm, since your post has very little to do with my character shall we pretend you posted first? Just to clear things up a bit. I think it will make it easier. Either way I believe its your go. Coming for a walk?</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>OOC:Hi Kate! IC:Afte resting i his dark corner of the temple and being a basic fly on the wall the raven colored pendragon jently strolled to the travelers and the priestess. "Pardon me but I couldn't help bu overhear. Saeroth Anwamanë, if I may call you by your name instead of sir I beg your pardon if I may not, you are not a noble. ::Pause:: You are better than a noble. Few can choose their own paths in life. And fewer still can choose against their upbringing. For that you should be respected above your family. As well as the theives above the law." With his wings folded in the fasion of a dove to resemble peace the blue black pendrgon turned to the preistess. "Such a gem, preistess, yet I notice you keep to yourself. I can relate. I never realy found my place in the world. So I to am content with beng alone. Though company woudn't hurt either." The pendragon turned to the remaining ungreeted pendragon. He noticed something familiar about this one. Like he knew him from somewhere in another life. "Hmmmmm, excuse me but have we met? I've mingled with many over the travel of my years, but none that I met again seemed as familiar as you. Yet at the same time I feel this is our first meeting. Time does work in mysterious ways though. Who knows we may have met before but in another life. ::Pause:: I can see in your eyes that you are regularly shrouded in shadow. An assassin perhaps? Or maybe you to have not found your place in the world." The lone soul walked to the door and stretched like a cat waking from a nap. The light from the door turned his already dark exterior into a siloette. "Oh, I almost forgot, a formal introduction, I am Tobias Rakash. I doubt you everheard of me and doubt you ever will. I feel my destiny is to change a lif and leave just as quickly as I came. Not accepting thanks nore curses. Not ever being known. Just to do what must be done and then be gone." With that he waited at the door in silence for a reply to his inturuption. Not knowing weather it will be taken as inpolite or a fly buzzing around. He was in a good mood in all actuallity. Not wisng for a fight. But he rarely gets the opportunity to put his 2 cents in. And he never misses an opportunity. He finds it quite amusing when a conflict arises. He's not easily angered. But if he must fight he will try to reson and then leave without a word. And ifhe dies, he will die laughing.</font>
<font color='#810541'>Ziarch looked upon the intruder with cold eyes. Here he was having a pleasant meeting with the Saeroth Anwamanë, prospects turning towards a relaxing walk in the well known temple gardens and this... this... pup comes trotting in acting like he rules all. "I doubt very much, Tobias Rakash, that we have met. I believe I would have remembered such a repulsive individual as yourself, even across the great span of time. As for reading the shadows in my eyes, could it not be that you simply overheard my quite clear statement that yes, my profession is that of an assassin. Do not overestimate your guessing abilities, boy. I am quite happy with the lot I was given and unlike yourself I do now wander place to place spouting garbage about not being heard of and changing the world. Fate has obviously intervened here changing the world for you, wether for better or worse I cannot yet tell, but be sure that if we had been anywhere else you would have had a physical lashing instead of just verbal. Now begon pest. I'm quite intent on seeing the temple's gardens with or without my companions and definitely without you." Ziarch's tail lashed out while his rage was held in check. His teal orbs glared at this, Tobias character, daring him to make a move. The temple may have stopped him from attacking the first time, but its soothing aura was quickly disappearing within the tension filled air.</font>
<font color='#FF0000'>Tobias was not afraid of Ziarch. He saw his youth and he was a fool to call him a pup. He saw his foolishness with his threat of a physical beating. Tobias knew he was the wiser one and likely the one superior in battle. Reasoning was not an option. He had insulted Tobias' intelligence. It was now time for his own tongue-lashing. He stood on all fours with his wings at full length and spoke. "Forgive me for not over hearing everything, for I lost in my own thoughts as well. But as for the rest of your threats, Ziarch, that is inexcusable. And I know that I am your elder by at least a year. How do I know this? I am a telepath you twit. You are a fool to think me a pup. You do not know how to choose your fights for I have a years worth of battle experience more than you as well. And you are a fool again to spout threats and insults to my otherwise friendly greeting. Bt you are right about one thing, this is a place of peace and not the place to fight. Had we been somewhere else and you attacked you would have failed. You have made an enemy that is physically superior to yourself. You could have avoided this but you are a fool. Tell me, young Ziarch, does ignorance run in your family? Maybe when we meat again we can settle the score. But I must take my leave. Because of our argument both of us are likely to be thrown out. Though we didn't speak much I bid you farewell priestess and Saeroth Anwamanë. Until next we meet." Tobias flapped his wings and with a gust he was gone. He was hoping to be followed by the young assassin.</font>
<font color='#810541'>Ziarch took a step forward towards the door. His fur stood on end, expressing his anger as did the long powerful tail that lashed out behind him. His own wings unfolded and lay partway stretched out from his body. He stood there, his eyes narrowed into slits and his body quivering with anger that was just barely being contained. "Intolerable fool... until next time." The grey wings dappled with red and gold feathers refolded themselves against the lean silver body. Ziarch turned back into the grand room and headed for the only door that lead further into the temple. He stomped right past Saeroth and the priestess without a word. Intent on cooling off his anger before he said something to either he would regret. Why Tobias had gotten under his skin so easily confused Ziarch. Generally he was very in control of his own emotions, but the attitude and tone that the other male spoke in just grated against everyone of his nerves. The young assassin shook his head and concentrated on finding the gardens now that he was in the temple's maze on tunnels.</font>
<font color='698AAB'>Saeroth looks between the two, and while outwardly remains motionless, and alert, inside he was smiling to himself. Not laughing at either, in fact, he was not thinking of either of the testosterone-dueling young males before him. He was thinking of himself when he was that young. Impetuous, strong-willed, stubborn, full of opinions. Now he was much mellowed, but no less the dragon he was at 2000 when awakened. His eyes trail the disappearance of the first, a mild pang at not exchanging words, but then, the fact of being overheard by a telepath was mildly unsettling. He would have to leave soon, despite Tobias' kind words of approval. Knowing that Ziarch, after the heated spat, would probably prefer a few moments to pace and curse, Saeroth bides his good time. Bowing low to the priestess to excuse himself from her lovely presence, a good five minutes after the original thought, the middle aged 'dragon takes the same trail Ziarch had, strolling calmly in his walk amongst the maze of temple folliage. The priestess, if she intended to follow, was of course welcome, and he assumed he would see her soon, regardless. He was not so much intent on using his tracking skills to do the finding, though unconciously he would of course be following. He was more intent on making enough noise -though certainly not too much- that if Ziarch had calmed down enough and wanted company, Saeroth could easily be the one found.</font>
<font color='#810541'>OOC: I'm up north for the next week so I wont be able to post in that time frame. If you guys reply before then I'll be back, but slow at replying. ^-^ IC: Ziarch walked through the paths that made up a part of the temple gardens. By the time he had cooled down enough to realize where he was he had already gotten himself deeply lost in the maze of paths and now wandered aimlessly. He supposed he could try to track his own footsteps back to the temple entrance, but felt no need to head back as of yet, nor was he very good at the art of wilderness tracking. In the city there was no place you could hide from him, but out here, in the wild... Well, he just didn't have the experience needed to be able to read the subtle signs of a broken twig or disturbed grass. As he walked through the gardens in a fashion that could only be called sulking, he found himself slowly being drawn towards the constant rustle of leaves and thud of paws hitting hard dirt. He followed the path he was on around a few bushes, a tree or two, and a pocket of odd looking purple flowers, and was greeted by the sight of Saeroth who was also strolling through the gardens taking his time to examine certain plants that he passed. The silver 'dragon took the chance and ever so casually caught up with the elder male and kept pace beside him, noticeing that the heavy footfalls and russeling immediatly dissapeared. Ziarch didn't bother speaking as of yet, he was content simply by enjoying Saeroths presence and the tranquillity of the surroundings. With a deep sigh he looked up to the sky above; or what seemed to be the sky. It almost looked like it was a giant painting with the perfect shade of sky blue showing through the tree tops.</font>
<font color='698AAB'>\\ OOC: Have fun!! \\ IC Saeroth, silent stroll resumed once Ziarch had sought him out, smiles serenely to himself and the surroundings about them. As of yet, he would avoid discussing what had just happened; that was both none of his business, and was also in the past. And while the past could instruct you in the future, the situation had no immediate bearing on how lovely the flowers smelt. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"If you'll forgive my taking the first short question, don't you find it amazing, even with the amount of tending it must recieve, the folliage still has quite a wild feel to it? Looking natural rather than strategically planted."</span> Saeroth meanders forward another few feet, then stops, to stand in front of a tree with a flower vine crawling up its trunk, a violet bloom directly in front of his face. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"I find it saddening how many have forgotten the Goddess, and how many of the temples have drifted under disrepair.. In times of technology, and space travel in our solar system, it seems that very few have remembered to keep the deities in mind for their very creation, and the ability granted us to have the creativity and intelligence to make such things as our machina in the first place."</span> He reaches out a paw, and with his pointer finger, claws sheathed, gently touches a petal's edge. He had no intention of plucking it from it's vantage point. <span style='color:#9B5B26'>"Sadder still are the few which know of the Goddess, and the rather sure thing that, assuming they were not murdered by Rapine, their souls would once again join the Goddess. Perhaps a fate too good for the ill at heart. Then again, perhaps, the ultimate mercy to let them in at all, considering no one person by time of death is completely innocent.."</span> Saeroth pauses at that, having said quite a bit on many tangential topics, allowing Ziarch to either respond to some, or none, before conversation began again.</font>
<font color='#810541'>Ziarch watched and listened to Saeroth. The other male was so sure of himself, so confident and so calm. They were traits that really complimented Saeroth and spoke well of him. He looked around the gardens. They were very natural looking. Trees towered over the plants and bushes that covered the ground around the twisting paths, while flowers sprinkled patches of colour in all directions, much like stars in the sky. Everything seemed to have been placed in a random order, yet somehow it all complimented what lay beside it. "I know next to nothing about gardening so I cant really say much, but these gardens have passed any and all expectations I had of them. They really are everything that is said of them and more." He did not comment on the forgotten goddess, nor any of the other topics that were mentioned. He had never really had a reason to think about it before as he hadn't ever believed in any of Ramath's deities. Ziarch agreed that there was something greater than himself out there. That something was running the show. He didn't, however, believe that that 'something' was able to have a direct influence on his life. To him that power did not have a substantial conciseness, but was rather just... there. The assassin moved on along the path at a very slow, leisurely pace. They had gone fairly deep into the gardens and were bound to eventually come upon either the edge of the gardens or a building soon. He wondered how big the temple was. It seemed endless from where he walked.</font>
