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[Arakad]

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The land of Lakeshire was quiet during the night, as the once dark paladin made his way across past the village and towards the forest haven of the meer.

The tree's sway'd with the breeze of the coming storm. Somthing was wrong, the chaos of nature has been a bit more random than normal as of late. Winds blowing the opposite way, elementals appearing where they are not needed.

"Could these effects be a warning from Oaks himself? Or could it be a sign of somthing else?" the man mumbled to himself as he kicked a small stone off the cobblestone path and into the fresh dew glistened grass.

"The druids.." he tought.. "The Druids were rather more obssessive over justice last eve, speaking as though they would smite anyone for useing the land in a fashion they did nah agree with." Quietly the fur boots sunk into the wet grass, the red kitsune fur soaking up the rain water, he gave a fanged grimmace feeling the water seep around his toes. "I really despise the rain tonight..." mumbling to himself as he brings a gloved hand to his kasa he tiped its rim over his face and pushed on through the grass and to the forest's edge.

Slushing his way through the forest over wet leaves and branches, he came to the rattan ladder that led up to the meer habitat. The sole of the fur boots squeaking among the finished wood planks as he made his way towards the alchimical lab hut. Within the hut stood the ancient figure just as before, fumbling over color coded bottles and mixed concoctions.

"Venerable Master; I have returned from my meetings. And more things have come to light. Are we going to help the druids with their request? Will we be able to un-do the wrongs of the past?" but the ancient meer held up a halting hand mumbling in an archaic language before turning to face the paladin.

"Aren't we the respectful one this evening? After your parting last time I should feed you to the harpies by the mountain side. But I'll take the arrogance as your father coming out of you..." Sayarujoh gave a twitch of his nose at the thought of the man that bred this paladin whom stood before him. "You are asking me if I will cure a wrong, in that I can only say... Nature is chance, and what wrongs one may percieve is a chance for new beginings in another's eyes. Some "things" may have been harmed, but new "beings" at the time were created."

"Yes I have heard this before, Sayarujoh, but you still have yet to answer my question. When will we set the wrong right? .. I would ask you more but I can see you will not answer me..." Arakad shook his head, raised a hand and leaned against a wood and leafed over wall, his dark animal like eyes gazed over the etchings on the wall he leaned against. Each marking sparking a bit of familiarity in him as he flexed his other hand.

"Master, there is another task I wish to set before you... A woman was harmed, an innocent it seems... her memory is befallen her and I would wish to help in its restoration..." Arakad narrowed his eyes quickly looking from the glyphs among the walls back to the ancient robed figure that fumbled around bottles in its paw like hands. " your... Our magic's are strong.. our ties to nature have been dangling by thin vines since the decay however... perhaps if we do this deed of good nature.. we could start to renew olds with old friends?"

"Your dealings with the other races will be the downfall of us yet, but to help an innocent I will grant you this one wish." Sayarujoh grimmaced as he turned to face the paladin eye to eye. "There are spells, but they require a conduit. These spells when focused are able to allow even the most novice of the Mystic caste call out the power of chaos and order. To set the chaotic absence of this young woman's mind back to order.. you should seek out such a conduit. "

Turning back to the table he brushed aside the bottles and withdrew a scroll and pulld a pen from its ink scratching down a listing of glyphs and markings in ancient Anjur skrit. "And I will grant you a spell of Balance that will suit your needs, hold the conduit in your hand, if you manage to find one... but do not cling to it for such an item could tear your soul in twine. Bring the spell to tongue and return your channeling item to its rightful place."

Unflexing his hand, the man reached out and grabed the parchment from the meer's paw "I have only practiced with the mystic arts, I am no master.. but I hope you are correct... Venerable master." Quickly Arakad turned, not wasting time for after talk, the man ran noisely across the wooden walkways, fur boots sounding like running water as they made their way down and back to the ground below.

Within the alchemical hut, the ancient meer shook his head reaching out with a shaking elderly hand, gripping a tome nearly as old as he, upon the tome reading Glyphical Troth of Anjur. The meer gave a long sigh placing the tome within the center of the table and returning to the vials of liquids sitting upon the table before him.