How the angel fell

[Cahaal]

A soft fire crackled spreading a warming glow around the tavern of the inn. Positioned midway between the sea port of Gulfport to the trade city of Tantyvil, the Brass Dragon Inn was the logical spot for many travelers to stop. The inn was well kept from the constant patronage of the caravanning merchants and travelers and well stocked from the surrounding farms. The inn had even hired a bard recently to keep the patrons entertained. Tonight the tavern had its usual buzz of mercenaries drinking, the locals sharing their thoughts on the crops and weather, and the merchants scraping metal flatware on pewter plates. The bard strummed his lute while singing a tune and occasionally taking a request.

The door to the inn opened and in strutted a man. His polished and gleaming heavy armor was obscured by the traveling cloak he wore. The man removed his helm to reveal flowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes, but it was when he removed his cloak that his heritage was revealed. No one could mistake that aura that bathed all but the deepest corners of tavern in a soft celestial glow. The locals went silent recognizing the emblazoned fist on the man's breastplate. In a soothing and calming voice the man asked for a room for the evening and a warm meal. He placed 2 silver coins on the counter and began to walk towards an empty table. The inn keeper cleared his throat. "Sir, I don't have room for you tonight. I suggest you continue on and find another place to rest."

"Nonsense, it's clear that this inn has plenty of rooms and by the looks of the common room I'm quite positive that you have at least one room available. If money is the issue, I'm sure we can resolve that."
"Sir, I mean no offense. I just don't think it's wise for you to stay here."
"Keeper! I am a paladin of Torm and I will not be treated like some cutpurse!" Anger flashed across his face and his aura intensified.
The locals gasped at the revelation and some hurried for the door.

The bard broke the confrontation with the strumming of his lute and began ...
"Oh holy warrior, he doesn't mean anything by it. Of course you can stay here. I shall even tell you a tale this evening"

Here, believe a night enchanted seen
Here, the hopes of gods are planted dreams
Remember, all we do not see
Surrendered, all we wished to be
Lost and forgotten
Our Akhenated body and spirit
No-one can hear it
Lost in Eternity

Death will embrace us
Hold and encase us
Time may deface us
Will gods retrace us

Time speaks through seasons
Gods speak through reasons
Not Kindness, compassion
But random fashions

Night in its vespers
Dreams are its gestures

Stars fear no distance
For they will always guard you
Throughout eternity

"The tale begins with a young woman and her soul mate... "

[Cahaal]

They were a happy couple that had met by happenstance and on an autumn afternoon were bound in a temple to Habbakuk. They made their place by collecting items from various places in the world and then selling them as they traveled. Everything they did, they did together. Traveling as bodyguards or sell-swords they had moved between the providences and collected a vast array of items. Having completed a tour as mercenaries for a land baron, they opened up a shop to sell some of the wares they had recovered. Cristiana was the brains behind the operation and Arakas was the brawn. Arakas had picked up some talent in repairing weapons and armor during his travels and opened a small forge. For weeks they lived quietly in the town. Getting to know the locals and bartering for goods and services. Cristiana had even been trying to talk Arakas into maybe settling down here. There was only one problem with them settling down: The Clergy.

The local temple was run by an Acolyte dedicated to Kiri-Jolith and as corrupt as they come. He was bloodthirsty and demanded that all worship Kiri-Jolith or be cast as heathens. He even had a contigent of paladins and clerics to carryout his wishes. His zealotry was so great that they had become fanatical. He twisted words and actions and condemned people who did not follow him. He executed the ones that spoke out against him as heretics. His goal was for perfect conversion and the building of the greatest temple Ansalon had seen dedicated to the gods in his name.

Arakas and Cristiana were not faithful people. They believed in each other and lived life with passion. Arakas, having more brawn than brain, had offended the Acolyte on several different occasions by speaking his mind or helping someone that was excommunicated. These offenses were unknown by Arakas, but the Acolyte knew them all too well. He felt personally slighted at Arakas's actions and felt threatened that the people might champion this mercenary. This is where a soul is fractured. This is where a star falls from the sky. And this is when an angel falls.

[Cahaal]

The paladin took a seat near the bard. This story, there was something about it. Certainly righteous men would never follow a cleric that had so obviously fallen from the grace of the gods.
Intent on the bards words, he sat mesmerized.

I have been this way before
Checked each window
Every door
For a passage through
This night

But each hallway ends the same
Every door's been checked in vain
For a way to reach my light

As I move deeper towards the castle's keeper
Every stair seems steeper
Am I risking my own life?

Then a wyrling in the air
Looking down returns my stare
While she is circling around

Then she dives straight towards a wall
Then she isn't there at all
And is gone without a sound
No sound

I have no choice but to follow
What was solid now is hollow
Stairways hidden behind curtains
Realizing nothing is certain

Suddenly up stairs I’m climbing
Then through hallways twisted, winding
The wyrmling on her endeavor
Do these stairs just go on forever?

And in that room
Astinus sitting there
He’s writing notes and staring into nowhere
Chronicles of books line the wall
Each a story of it all