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[Rufus Oryan]

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Rufus sat at a lonely desk on the top floor of his keep. He rested his face in his tattooed hands as he pondered over the letter he had received from his son, Rashid.

Rufus slowly rested his hands on the arms of the chair. He looked down at the markings on his hands and shook his head and spoke in a subtle tone, “I wonder how they will react to my return. My leaving was so abrupt...” He stood up slowly, walking to a window on the far side of the room. He raised his right hand and brushed it against the marking on his face, staring out into a dark forest, “My gifts are much greater now; the thirst to know is gone. I have passed on my teachings to my youngest son. By the rights of Balance, he will do with them what the Spirits suggest. Though, I am sure I am still indebted to some degree. In my lessons…or former lessons, I am bound to that land. It has been like torture being away….it eats at my very soul…”

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath; visions of the ethers play about in his head, and then darkness. He mutters a few soft words, and then opens his eyes, “Oh the pains I have seen. All I did, I did willingly. The ideals of Balance could only be supported if I understood all things. My heart speaks a language of good…and my soul another. Mystic teachings I am sure are forgotten now...” He stops abruptly and a slight grin forms on his face, “And what of Nu’jelm…Surely they have looked after it…”

Rufus bites his lip for moment…deterring his thoughts. He slowly brushes his right hand against the window’s ledge; small flickers of light spark from his finger tips in a dull shadowy hue. “I have not changed one bit. Evil I am not…The energies speak volumes. Teachings of Spiritmancy live on through me…ideals of balance…good and evil. The possibilities are endless!” He takes in a deep breath and calms himself. “Aye, I shall return…”

Moments later, incantations filled the air…and with a strange wind and fluttering parchments; Rufus Oryan was gone. His dark, dusty, study filled with eerie whispers and dancing shadows; strange energies were about.

As golden grains of sand blow about on the ghetto laden outskirts of Nu’jelm, a small girl plays just atop a mound, puzzled by the sound of what seems to be whispers in the distance. Her curiosity heightened, she walks toward the sound…

There she finds a man with markings upon his face and hands kneeling in the sand, his face pressed against the surface beneath him. He raises his head to look at the girl. She stands startled for a moment, and slowly mumbles, “Mi…Mister…are you alright?” He tilts his head a bit and smiles for a moment. He nods once and bows his head, “Aye, I am little one...Just happy to be home. My name is Rufus, what is yours?”
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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."