Fangedwolf
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« Reply #1 on: July 13, 2006, 12:08:17 PM » |
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In his own room Najaal sits, the candles still burning in the circle of power around him. The circle is still high in power from the ritual earlier and he breathes in that air, knowing that such power should not be wasted.
He murmurs some words and his voice seems to whisper through the very air itself as if by several voices until the room is filled with the sound of layers of his murmuring voice. The power of the circle infuses his words until they stay in the air, murmuring even when he falls silent.
As Rease falls asleep he would find himself once more sitting at a table in his house, as he had been earlier in the day. There would seem nothing strange about this, it was his house after all. Perhaps it would seem like it was earlier in the day when he had come back. Accross the table from him he would notice a figure dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, hazel eyes watching him, a spark of something compelling in them. The figure was handsome cut, the long dark grey hair cast over his shoulder in a tail.
As is often in dreams, Rease would not feel compelled to speak, but the figure, whom he may recognise as being Najaal, High Priest of Lord Abraxius, though there was no feeling of threat from the usually so dark figure. The man would begin to speak.
"So many burdens upon your shoulders. I know all too well of burdens and not wanting to let people down. I do not want this war and its bloodshed, but circumstances compell it." His gaze would continue to watch the seemingly older man with a patience and a calm one might not expect from this figure. "So many people rely on you in this place, to provide, to protect even, but if you join with the Sosarian Empire you will only bring war and blooshed to this land, of this I can garuntee. Lord Abraxius is not a forgiving being, and he will spread death and corruption through your fair land if you oppose him, but this does not need to be."
The gaze of the High Priest watches the male, someone whom in other circumstances he would have liked to get to know better. Perhaps this was one of the reasons he spoke to him now, and not merely through duty. Perhaps this was why he was making this offer.
"If you do not stand and fight with the Sosarian Empire I offer the peace you seek. Peace from the fighting and bloodshed. All that I ask in return is that we be welcomed as any other into your town. You will find no trouble with us unless you start it."
He would stand, his hand running over the back of his seat as he looks down at the still silent male before placing a check down on the table. "Take this as a sign of good faith. I am sure you have need of it for your town. I cannot stop the war from sweeping this land, but I could stop it from coming here. Think on this. When you decide, call my name to the ethor. I will hear you."
For one reason or another, whether it was to glance at the check or merely to blink, Rease would find that the figure would no longer be standing there opposite him. Soon after he would slowly wake, groggy from sleep. But had it all been a dream? When he would move about the house he would find that slip of parchment still sitting on the table where Najaal had left it in the dream. The choice was in his hands now.
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