The Temple of Koleth sits high in the canopy above the market square, a series of rooms connected by suspension bridges which resemble a sprawling village tucked within the city. Some of those spaces serve as places of worship, while others connect to lower levels for sleeping areas and private retreats. Most importantly, for Loth, there's an area within the temple containing the knowledge collected by acolytes of the past.
The sun filtering through the canopy dapples golden against the surfaces of leaves and wooden bridges. The priests of Koleth, some bearing the mark while others choosing this path in life, live as close to the symbol of their God as possible. As if the sun's light will somehow bring them closer to the fiery Koleth. Loth will never fully understand these religious types.
The temple buzzes with worshippers from all walks of life. Families teach the ways of the God to their progeny, while others descend upon the temple in groups as if to prove their faith to one another.
The hood conceals Loth's sneer. It isn't that he doesn't believe in the Gods, only a fool denies their existence and influence on Caliah. But one's faith should be private and personal, not flaunted in order to gain status or acceptance.
Fools, all of them.
He leans against the trunk bathing in the scant afternoon shadows and conducts an internal check on the spell which ensures he remains unnoticed. It holds strong. While not rendering him completely invisible, the eyes of those who view him slip over his form as if he wasn't there at all. Loth wishes to remain unseen in his search for the information requested by the King.
The spell is a steady, trickling drain on his resources, even tied as it is into the soulgem at his neck. It makes the backs of his eyes itch and no amount of rubbing eases the sensation. The stone hums contentedly, a sound heard only within the confines of Loth's skull. Yes, it would enjoy his discomfort, no matter how slight.
The thin wire presses into his palm as his fingers curl tight around the dragon bone staff. The delicate silver, resting in light grooves carved into the bone, holds a diamond in its intricate embrace. He invested many hours charging the stone a trickle at a time. The diamond absorbs his energy like a sponge, a power only he can access. A precaution in case of emergency.
The temple of Koleth is his best chance at finding any knowledge on the mark of both Gods. The Temple of Nialand, though equal in size, tends not to keep such far reaching records. Their reasoning - you can't embrace change if you're trapped in the events of the past. To state that Nialand is primarily about change is akin to stating that a mountain is equivalent to a pebble. One must understand the past in order to move forward, yet not dwell on events which you cannot alter. Nialand works in subtle ways, unlike his mate. Koleth is straightforward, valuing information and the protection of one's past. In this respect, the pair complement each other perfectly.
All of this introspection is getting him nowhere.
Loth knows exactly which room accesses the archives. If only those priests can finish their silly discussion on the history of hybrids. The pair babble on and on about some noble bloodline or another.
A priestess hails them, signalling them with hand gestures which obviously mean something to the two men. Finally! The pair follow her away, leaving the doorway empty and unguarded. Indeed, who would risk breaking into the temple of the fiery God? The priests are only too happy to provide you with any information you request of them.
Loth is confident the priests wouldn't be so forthcoming if a mage, let alone the King's personal advisor, casually requests information on the duel mark of the Gods. It would stir their curiosity and launch a quiet investigation. Soon, the resurgence of the mark would become common knowledge. A situation Loth wishes to avoid at all costs.
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The Paths of GreythornFantasy
The dream paths, accessed by a chosen few, reveal the most likely future following any given choice. Unfortunately for the human dreamwalker Daystorm, the decisions made by the fairies of Greythorn make her long for the simpler days of sweat-induced...