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[Rufus Oryan]

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A tired Rufus sat before his desk, dreaming of words to scribble on parchments. He knew that first he must tend to letters, and then mayhaps something else…

Rufus raised his pen, placing it to the parchment, allowing words to flow from his mind and heart and onto the page,

Milady Molly Willow,

The news of your departure from our group of Loyalists did strike me with great sadness. I must say that I did indeed cherish and hold fast to the advising, musings and relatively positive words that you shared with me. Though I was absent on that day, I did make my way home, wishing that I would be greeted by a collection of persons dedicated to the Grand peoples of Britannia and the Crown of our true King, Lord British and the spirit of the Regency. While the persons that hold office are just as important as the beings that make up the collection of loyalists, I cannot imagine a roundtable discussion without your wordings and principles. I must extend my heart in expressing that we will miss your face as well as your mind amongst the table. The Regency will not falter and still does represent that which is right and virtuous in the hearts of the people.

Forever in your Service,
Rufus Oryan, Governor Regent of Britannia


Rufus placed the parchment in the hand of the messenger and readied to work at another parchment, a missive to the masses. In an instant the ideas swarmed about his head, but he knew it nay the right time to scribble down the thoughts and words he had crafted, instead, he thought it time to focus his patients elsewhere…

The cold winds of Caina were still unforgiving, memories of torture and substances that we against what Rufus stood for swirled about his head. He reached to his face, though hooded, brushing the marking that Alarin had placed upon his skin. The Marking represented so much more, more than a memory of pain, but a memory of life, a crescent moon; with a small dot within it…the mark resembled a bone harvester. Twas a mark that showed purpose, it had created a bond between to two, and they were bound by souls. Rufus walked through the snowy land, pushing his way toward the Well of Souls. As he neared the site, his body became engulfed in an eruption of anxiety; anxiousness came about him, the want to feel the energies that lie within. He remembered the day Alarin had brought him here, he thought of his dealing with Spiritmancy. Rufus walked slowly into the enclosed area, embracing the hurt of the surrounding entities, but cleansing his mind, wondering of the warmth of the deities he often focused on. He would maintain this energy, make it remain pure; allow it not to corrupt him. But still, he must embrace it first; Meetings with evils and darkness were nay a thing Rufus was fond of, but it was also something he had grown accustomed to. He understood all paths and knew how to keep to his.

The Energy, the pain; it clasped to Rufus’s body, maintaining hold upon every inch of his being, but his mind…still clear. He thought of the simplest of things, Sarah’s smile, A book, a candle…A rose. His hands began to shake…he focused his energies to his extremities, wanting to allow the power to course through his body, allowing him the ability to craft something from the spiritual energies from the well of Souls. Rufus was nay adept in the art of Spiritmancy, for his lessons were short, but his memory of the feeling, the ability was not. He closed his eyes, focusing on his hand, allowed his clenched fist to hold within it the imagined rose, but of what color? In his recent journeys he dreamt of purity, immense beauty and comfort, he would craft a White Rose…

Rufus contracted his muscles, allowing his fist to tighten, focusing on the matter before him. As light emitted from his tensed first, he imagined, dreamt, wandered of a glorious white rose, something of beauty. As his breath quickened, and his heart raced, he opened his hand…and in it sits a Rose, crafted from spiritual energy. His eyes grew wide, enjoying the fruits of his labor. His eyes fluttered a bit, and in his excitement, he turned to walk, hoping to exit the Well of Souls, but alas, his body exhausted from the ordeal…he fell to the snow passing out in the chilly tundra…


What thoughts filled his head, glorious visions of his ending. His spiritual oneness, his acceptance by the peoples of Britannia, and him preaching to him his grand professions of the virtues and his ideals…

“Though we oft become pained by the reality of the taints that fall before us without our control. We hold fast to that which empowers us, that which makes us the righteous. Allow you not to become corrupt by that which you think evil or nay right. Allow you to fight on and see that which you grasp as virtuous stand tall. See that the grand ordeals that the heavens place us in are walked through and completed. Our tasks about this land are great; no matter how mundane they may seem to those around us…greatness is within us all. And Organizations and Governments such as the Regency house individuals that are able to come together for a grand cause, thus acting as one grand entity…all under the vastness of the heavens, and straying from the void. Trust in me my people…for I will not lead you astray……….”

Alas, his wordings were only a vision….for now…
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"Balance - the harmony between the Principles of Order and Chaos...Harmony, Dedication and Rationality, the three Principles of Balance, are our highest ideals."