The cat reached a hand back to scratch at his neck as he considered the frog's words. "Well, uh I went from walking on four legs to two legs, so any sort of motion that tops that tends to be a bit impressive--" He coughed into a fist and stopped himself. "Brings me to the slums?" He repeated, evidently confused. He placed his hands on his hips and glanced around, surveying his surroundings. He winced, then chewed his lower lip in contemplation. "It certainly does appear to be a slum, now you mention it. huh." He murmured. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "Just kinda... dropped in, I guess. I was in a really, really big hurry and cast a teleportation spell, without any particular thought for any actual destination. Quite foolish, that. It could have ended in oh so many bad ways. To name a few, one possibility was me getting trapped in another plane of existence, or, another fun one, getting spewed all over that wall there like the insides spurted out of a crushed tomato--" He once again fake coughed, clearly realizing he was perhaps going a bit too into detail. He turned his head downwards to examine the wounded man. "He doesn't look particularly loaded. Especially unlikely, given this is a slum, come to think of it." He pondered out loud. He blinked. "Well, what are you waiting for? He's only going to be unconscious for so long." He laughed, perhaps a bit worryingly amused by the prospect.

Zeetah perked up at the word "spell". He didn't know why, but he had always been interested in magic and always hoped he could learn some tricks. A teleportation spell would be particularly useful, he thought to himself. But he had also heard that Ampharians were never particularly good at magic, or at least, none had ever tried. "So, you said you were a magician or... what? Can you show me something cool? And teach me how to do something?" the frog was unconsciously bouncing in excitement. He felt bad that he was never particularly good at listening or holding a conversation, and he generally went out of his way to interact with people, so he never really had anyone to talk to and had very little experience with conversation as a result. Even still, this was an strange and exciting person with an exciting prospect of magic, so he could make an exception.

Zazrioa was walking down the dirty slums of Areapolis even though he didn't think it was too dirty although the smell was something but Zazrioa could not smell it,Beggars were all around the area begging and grabbing at the hem of his robes but he did not cringe nor quickly move away form the homeless men and women but kneel beside them praying with them about the Hauke the creator."Cyt'ma Golte Makla Durwa" He spoke to one of the homeless men in a soft whisper holding his warm hand with his own scaly hand,Once he was done he stood up handing him a pamphlet of the Estrella de Celimna walking further down the alleyway. While walking he accidentally bumped into Zeetah with his scaly shoulder,"My apologizes my brother...i did not see you... i was not looking where i was walking... He said in a raspy deep voice.

In the richer circles of the city, stood and area known as the Lane of Gods. Running almost the length of Areopolis, perpendicular to the river, it was a row of great and lavish temples and churches, built to honour the many deities worshipped in areopolis. As a gathering point and central trading area between many of the great civilisations that adorned the modern world, Areopolis had come to adopt centres for almost every religion on the face of the planet. And as one would walk down this great road, their eyes would be assaulted by great arrays of splendour and beauty, each house of worship struggling to outdo the others. On the northern edges of the Lane of Gods was a relatively new addition, consturcted over the course of 3 years, and finished just 20 years before. A pillar reaching towards the heaven, a monolithic structure of pure marble. Through it ran veins of obsidian, perfectly incorporated with magic, depicting runes and images, all converging into a single star-shaped symbol in the centre, the official Crest of the Infinite Empire, and the symbol of the Blessed of Trazyn. Within the temple, sitting on a large and highly comfortable cushioned chair was Alice, tiny little legs kicking as she heard the words of the priests. Her eyes slowly moved across the faces, their pupils black as night. It seemed like the Council had rejected the Infinite Empire's rights to host a larger guard, despite the fact that the limits placed upon the Blessed of Trazyn were greater than those placed on the other religions. It was understandable, to an extent. They had no certainty of action, they lacked the direction that graced the lives of the faithful, and feared that they did not know. And those with long memories could still remember when the Blessed had been a scourge on the world, the Dark Crusade cutting a swath of destruction across the land. Of course, it would all change, the tables would turn. A new page was turned in the Book of Time, and the script had been written, it would not be long before the Council would acknowledge Trazyn as the greatest of the Gods. Those lesser deities, clutching at their Earthly thrones with trembling hands, they already knew what was upon them. The end of the strife and terror that they had sowed, the beginning of a time of great unification. As it had been foretold over a thousand years ago, all life would acknowledge Trazyn, and Trazyn would once more be lord over all creation. Smiling, Alice held up a hand, silencing the priests. "ja'Lir, there's a whorehouse in the Tall District. There, find the human with troll's blood. Tell her to give the elf the glass." "To give the elf the glass?" Faithful as always, Ja'Lir knew not to question Alice's statements. When Alice spoke, it was as if the words had come from the mouth of Trazyn himself, and was to be treated as such. If he followed her words, they would lead the Blessed into an age of greater prosperity, they always did. Without her wisdom they would all be doomed. Alice gave a small confirmatory nod, and watched as her loyal guard walked out the door. He would do as she had asked, she knew that much, and she already knew that the trollkin would concede. The vision she had received was a beautiful one, where the Blessed would spread their Gifts to all of Areopolis, and that those who suffered would accept it. ------------------------------ Several miles to the North a great wyvern walked. Massive thrice-clawed feet dug deep gouges into the stone. The light of day reflected off of it's sleek, scaled form, it's wings unfolding as it stretched. Bones snapped beneath it's tread, as it carefully licked the blood from it's side, reptilian eyes darting around. Flames burned around it, among the heaps of piled stones and corpses, those that had been too mangled or burnt to eat. It's head rose, as it stared into the distance, towards the great city of Areapolis, smoke rising from the hundreds of houses within. As it stepped through the remains of the village, it felt it's hunger yet to be stilled. It snorted, noxious fumes rising in the warm daylight, a long tongue running across the double row of serrated teeth. It's great wings unfurled, slightly translucent green membranes stretching out, cleaned of the blood that had stained them, arrows almost carefully removed. With a great beat, the body of the great beast rose, inherent magic strengthening the beat and lightening the body, lifting it off the ground. High into the sky rose the wyvern, leaving behind it the scene of it's last meal.

Zeetah's attention was torn from his furry new acquaintance when what seemed to be a scaly, robed, older version of himself bumped into him, causing him to stumble backward unexpectedly, stepping on some glass in the process. "Ouch! Damnit! Watch where you're going, you--" Zeetah stopped, eyes widening as he got a better look at the Reptil standing before him. He muttered to himself, "A-a Reptil mage! Two magic users to learn from!", composed himself, and stammered, "I-I'm sorry, sir! I've never seen an actual Reptil before! I just... Wow! I've heard stories, but I guess..." he shrugged, "I guess I don't get out much." Zeetah sat down on the stoop of the building he still didn't realize was a brothel to tend to his bleeding webbed foot. "Shit," he breathed as he observed that some of the glass had pierced through the webbing on his right foot, leaving a tear, "that really sucks."

"It is perfectly fine it was my own fault for now looking where I was walking...again my apologizes..." Zazrioa spoke looking down at him,When he saw the wound in his foot his eyes now looking sympathetic to him.He kneeled down beside him at first looking at his foot before slowly touching them with his scaly hands,"Z'a Mak'el Rid'rul Dhs Opien Baui" He spoke using a bit of his magic to heal the wound on his right foot. "That should heal my brother..." He said to Zeetah now standing up to show his tall figure.

The tear in Zeetah's foot was completely healed and the pain was completely gone. "Whoa," he said, examining his foot, turning it over in his hands. "That's amazing," he mumbled. He looked up and repeated more clearly, "That is amazing! Where can I learn to do something like that?" He looked at Tex, "Can you do that, too?" He looked back at the Reptil and thrust out his hand, "Zeetah. My name is Zeetah." Glancing back at Tex, he remembered that he hadn't introduced himself and thrust out his other hand toward him, "Uh, right, sorry. You heard my name just now, right? Nice to meet you!"

"My name is Zazoria...a pleasure to meet to meet you Zeetah..." Zazroia spoke shaking the boy's hand with his own,He smiled knowing that he had done Shasana's work Shasana being the goddess of charity and kindness.He was of course flattered by his reaction making the Reptil blushing a little but luckily for him not that noticeable and wanted to ask if it would be too rude for him to leave since he needed to meet his friend Jade for a upcoming rite.

Tex folded his arms and nodded as he listened along. He seemed quite intent to observe this fellow magic user and what he was capable of. As he watched him magically heal the wound, he pouted ever so slightly. As Zeetah asked him whether he himself was capable of such things, his head shrunk low ever so slightly, as if some of his previous enthusiasm had been knocked out of him. "I... can't... say I can. Healing magic is, uh, something I never learned, truth be told." He stammered nervously. He suddenly regained his composure, standing upright again. "But, I can teach you teleportation, illusions, some conjuration... oodles of stuff. I--" He cut himself off with one of his coughs. "Oh, right. New company." He extended a hand cautiously towards the new reptilian. "Tex." His right eye glanced over to Zeetah. "Oh, nearly forgot about you..." He extends his other hand to the frog. "Also Tex. Pleased to meet the both of you."

"A pleasure my fellow brother...are you a magic user also?" Zazoria said shaking the cat person's hand,He was going to ask to leave to meet his fellow kin Jade but did not want to seem rude to two.While they were talking a group of drunken soldiers pasting by one of them bumping into Zazrioa,"Watch it lizard boy..." One of them yelled another looking over at the Reptil. "What look what we have here...a Estrella de Celimna...gonna try to convert me lizard boy" Another man spoke laughing loudly while another grabbed Zazrioa shoulder pushing him to the ground another throwing beer at his robe.

"Are you serious about teaching me?" is what Zeetah was about to reply when the drunk soldiers arrived. Without thinking, Zeetah leapt from the ground into the shadows of the brothel's awning to escape the sight of the officers, whom he thought might recognize him from some wanted posters he had seen in the richer parts of the city. His wits returned and he peered over the edge to see what would become of his new magical acquaintances. A small part of him was also hoping that he was about to see a pretty great magic show...

Tex blinked and glanced around as he suddenly felt the two hands leave his. His eyes widened as he saw the cause of the commotion: soldiers. While his face wasn't yet plastered all over the city as Zeetah's was, the notion that they might know of his earlier infractions was, of course, a cause for concern! He increased the distance between him and Zazoria as the soldiers came closer. He could only wince as they grabbed the lizard and threw him against the ground. A second wince occurred when that nice robe of Zazoria's got soaked in the soldier's drink. "I've seen quite enough of this...!" He angrily muttered. He suddenly dashed back down the street, shoving himself between the soldiers and the sprawled out reptile. "Hey! No one beats -my- semi-acquaintances I met only about three minutes and thirty-five seconds ago!" He angrily shouted, stabbing an outstretched, accusatory finger towards them. "That was also a waste of a perfectly good drink! More over, no one is dumb enough to draw the wrath of a wizard--" While his threat started off solidly enough, when he reached for his staff, he froze when he realized it was actually no longer secure in the hoops of its harness that wrapped around Tex's torso diagonally like a bandolier. "Oh god where is it?" He thought to himself, his expression becoming one of obvious fright. He held his hands out before him as he stepped back, nearly tripping over the very person he tried to stand up for. "H-hey w-wait... w... we can talk about this!" He pleaded.

"No my brother I...was just speaking to a friend..."Zazrioa was going to speak once more but was interrupted by one of th soldiers pulling out a long sword pointing it at the Reptil,"I don't like you lizard breath no one in this city likes The Reptil they are sneaky,dirty...Renark" The one holding the sword remarked knowing that Renark is a racial slang used against The Reptil."So piss off before we kill you and make boots out of ya and your Renark pansy group" Another remark with a smirk drawing his sword. Zazrioa just rolled his eyes since he had heard this before many times as a youngling and adult it was not different here then in Mirgeoof,Racist as his grandfather would put it but his Grandfather would have worse things to say about those people."Hi'magol Zimjoe Ne'hs Uzab Xop Yeq'Ca" He said loudly lifting his shaft high up into the air as a large dragon like creature appeared made out of flames shooting fire at the soldier's feet letting their feet aflame but not enough to burn them alive. This would be enough to scare the racisy men away,"We'll get you back lizard breath one said running away and they would mean it so now Zazoria would have to watch his back although he was protected by some of the guards and his own kin.

"Wow, that's a good way to make enemies!" Zeetah called to the pair still on the ground, "I usually just run. But maybe I'd react differently if I could do magic, too..." Zeetah remained silent for a bit and then continued, "I'm gonna stay up here, just to make sure they're really gone, OK? But you," he pointed at Tex, "you said you could teach me magic? And what about you?" he pointed another finger at Zazrioa, "Can you teach me too?" Zeetah could see Zazroia's eyes shifting a bit in the way that says "I'm busy", apparently eager to get away. "Are you alright? Eager to get away?"

Loudly, the door to the whorehouse banged open, as Ja'Lir strode through. As was usual for anyone entering, one of the girls instantly walked towards him, to make sure he enjoyed his stay. A single withering glance from the paladin made her reconsider, however, and she quite promptly backed away. When the warrior strode up to the counter, where a scantily clad lady was performing acts more acurately described as 'entertainment', rather than actually tending the bar. As the onyx-skinned warrior halted beside the counter, however, the colour drained from the woman's face. He spoke in calm, soft tones, and yet he was clearly heard over even the dinn the drunk soldiers were making. 'There is a human with troll's blood here, where is that human?' 'W-Well, I can't-' 'If I were to kill every living being in this establishment, I would find the person I was looking for. Your answer will save me the trouble of cleaning blood from my blade, and you the trouble of being judged for your sin in the afterlife.' The tone of the palladin's voice was not one of anger, or intimidation, but rather a cold assertion of death. 'Room 12!' Leaving the terrified 'bartender', Ja'Lir steps up the stairs, chainmail hauberk jungling with ever step. It had been a bluff, of course, he would not sully the name of the Blessed by committing a crime. Their standing in this city was bad enough. However, sometimes it was good to make use of the Blessed's bloody reputation, and his face could be devoid of emotion when he wished it to be. Which was, admittedly, pretty much always. Unwilling to waste time, Ja'Lir kicked down the door to Room 12, the half-rotten wood easily giving way to his metal-clad foot. It crashed into the ground with a second bang, as the armoured figure strode into the room. His face was deep black, as was normal for those born in the great northern deserts. He wore a long chainmail hauberk, as well as thick plate boots and gauntlets. A helmet with an upturned visor rested on his head, protecting his scalp. A black and white tabard stretched down over his armor, the seven-pointed star of Trazyn emblazoned clearly in the center, a thick leather belt holding a long black sheat at his side. Combined with his height and muscle mass, he struck an imposing figure. 'Give the elf the glass.' Having delivered his message, Ja'Lir turned on his heels, and walked away, eager to return to his post beside his mistress. She had a bad habit of underestimating the danger to herself in her scheming, and he constantly worried about her safety. Aside from her being a Prophet, he had grown rather fond of her over the years, as she was able to look right through his stony face, and with her he had no need to speak his feelings to have them known. With five long strides, Ja'Lir was already at the staircase, heading down.

"Wow, that's a good way to make enemies!" Zeetah called to the pair still on the ground, "I usually just run. But maybe I'd react differently if I could do magic, too..." Zeetah remained silent for a bit and then continued, "I'm gonna stay up here, just to make sure they're really gone, OK? But you," he pointed at Tex, "you said you could teach me magic? And what about you?" he pointed another finger at Zazrioa, "Can you teach me too?" Zeetah could see Zazroia's eyes shifting a bit in the way that says "I'm busy", apparently eager to get away. "Are you alright? Eager to get away?"

"No...well i have a meeting with a friend of mine...but i can stay with you for the moment in case they come back..." Zazrioa spoke now looking over at Zeetah,Indeed he was worried that Jade and the others were commencing with the rite and without him."Oh...and of course i can teach you my brother..would you like to come with me to stay with the Estrella de Celimna?" He now asked him seeing as he knew about Zeetah and wondered if he would like a home.

Zeetah knew about the Estrella de Climna. A pretty intense religious group that he was sure he could never fit in with. But the chance to learn magic--real magic--overwhelmed his thoughts. "Well... I know I could never see myself being religious, but I'm good at staying out of the way when I need to. If I can come and just learn magic...and maybe get a bite to eat every once in a while... then yeah, I think I might come with you! What do you say?" Zeetah lowered himself from the awning, careful to avoid the broken glass still scattered about. "Oh, and Tex should come too! You're trying to stay away from the guards, too, right? I saw your face when you couldn't fight, and I recognize that look on any face..." Zeetah stopped himself quickly and turned to Zazrioa, "There won't be guards there, right? That would be silly... right?"

"We are not so bad..that is form the prejudice of others...we are here to help the community...among other things...my kin would be honored to have you in our home..." Zazrioa chuckled and would have to teach them that the Esterlla de Climna are not as terrible as the guards make them out too be,"Their are no guards in the House Of Climna...you will be safe there my brother..." He spoke now muttering a little spell to make the glass around Zeetah into sand so he could walk safely.

Loudly, the door to the whorehouse banged open, as Ja'Lir strode through. As was usual for anyone entering, one of the girls instantly walked towards him, to make sure he enjoyed his stay. A single withering glance from the paladin made her reconsider, however, and she quite promptly backed away. When the warrior strode up to the counter, where a scantily clad lady was performing acts more acurately described as 'entertainment', rather than actually tending the bar. As the onyx-skinned warrior halted beside the counter, however, the colour drained from the woman's face. He spoke in calm, soft tones, and yet he was clearly heard over even the dinn the drunk soldiers were making. 'There is a human with troll's blood here, where is that human?' 'W-Well, I can't-' 'If I were to kill every living being in this establishment, I would find the person I was looking for. Your answer will save me the trouble of cleaning blood from my blade, and you the trouble of being judged for your sin in the afterlife.' The tone of the palladin's voice was not one of anger, or intimidation, but rather a cold assertion of death. 'Room 12!' Leaving the terrified 'bartender', Ja'Lir steps up the stairs, chainmail hauberk jungling with ever step. It had been a bluff, of course, he would not sully the name of the Blessed by committing a crime. Their standing in this city was bad enough. However, sometimes it was good to make use of the Blessed's bloody reputation, and his face could be devoid of emotion when he wished it to be. Which was, admittedly, pretty much always. Unwilling to waste time, Ja'Lir kicked down the door to Room 12, the half-rotten wood easily giving way to his metal-clad foot. It crashed into the ground with a second bang, as the armoured figure strode into the room. His face was deep black, as was normal for those born in the great northern deserts. He wore a long chainmail hauberk, as well as thick plate boots and gauntlets. A helmet with an upturned visor rested on his head, protecting his scalp. A black and white tabard stretched down over his armor, the seven-pointed star of Trazyn emblazoned clearly in the center, a thick leather belt holding a long black sheat at his side. Combined with his height and muscle mass, he struck an imposing figure. 'Give the elf the glass.' Having delivered his message, Ja'Lir turned on his heels, and walked away, eager to return to his post beside his mistress. She had a bad habit of underestimating the danger to herself in her scheming, and he constantly worried about her safety. Aside from her being a Prophet, he had grown rather fond of her over the years, as she was able to look right through his stony face, and with her he had no need to speak his feelings to have them known. With five long strides, Ja'Lir was already at the staircase, heading down.

Ach! That noise! That God Damned noise! It was already bad enough that Talaran's head felt like it was going to split in two. Blame it on the mead and the several fists she took to her bruised and swollen face, still a bit pretty but not by much. She couldn't even hear the bard's tune over that pounding racket, as if the god of the forge himself was smashing the door down with his blazing hammer. "Augh! By the gods!" She groaned loudly turning towards the door, just in time to catch it fall to the floor with a heavy thud and lay squinting, pained eyes on the ebony skinned gargantuan clad head to toe in armor. A rather gruff fellow was he, and a bit intimidating too, even to the drunken warmaiden slightly. "An' jusht who in 'e bloody Abyss er ye?" Her voice slurred, she stammered equally cantankerous with a sharp pair of ice blue daggers staring back at him. It seemed as though she wanted another brawl in the blood and the ale. Unfortunately, that was not the reason this man was here. The cold look in his eyes, Talaran recognized it all to well, it was a look in a man or even a woman's eyes....when they were out for blood, a specific blood. And often times, that cold look was indeed sobering to even the rowdiest of drunks. The woman remained in her seat, her glare held on the beast of a man as he barked for the whereabouts of a human with troll's blood and demanded the barkeep tell him where this person was. A trollkin? Talaran wondered. There was a part of her that was itching to grab her sword by the door, to teach this bastard a lesson about barging in. Yet, there was the other part, the surprisingly sober and more reasonable part that kept her rump glued to the barstool and her vigilant eyes affixed upon the brute. The barkeep, poor lad was shaking in his skin and the man barely laid a single hand on him. Only then would Talaran find it necessary to intervene...violently of course. Luckily this time, no further bloodshed was needed. The boy fessed up choking out his answer and off the man went up the stairs, his voice, about as charming as a braying ass, echoing with his order, Give the elf the glass. What glass? A glass of water? Wine perhaps? No, how much an idiot Talaran was for thinking something as dimwitted as that. It had to be something else, but honestly...twas none of her business, nor did she have any wishes to pry into it. With the last drop of her mead finished, gruffly the woman sighed and slammed her tankard down on the bar, standing up and rubbing at her face with a gauntlet clad hand. A bit wobbly she stumbled over to the door, still disheartened her beautiful lass had left her alone at the bar, but the sweet and pungent flavor of Giulia's mead made up for it. Aye... I shudn't 'ave drinken too much... Indeed she shouldn't, not when she still had a job to do, that job being more of a grim and harrowing task...slay a wyvern. Speaking of the wyvern... "DRAGON!! A DRAGON HAS ATTACKED MY VILLAGE!! SOMEONE!! ANYONE!! PLEASE HELP!!" The frantic and terrified voice echoed down the bogged, muddy street and soon found its way into the warmth of Giulia's and to Talaran's ears perking up at the sound. Quickly the woman turned to the door and there he stood, a poor farm boy, his face covered in cuts, bruises and burns and his skin coated in a thick, smoky layer of soot. Tears ran down his cheeks as a painful river and ever desperately he sobbed into his hands collapsing at the door. Aye! Calm yerself lad! What's the matter? Talaran asked the boy, her eyes widening. Amidst his woeful tears, the boy uttered in return, "A...a dragon! A b-beast of the abyss! I pray brave warrior! Will you slay him?! He has killed my family and burned my home to cinders! Please! Please you must slay him!" The poor lad, he clung to Talaran's armor for dear life, the woman having to shake him off with a stern reply, "I said calm yerself boy! Was this beast a wyvern?" "Aye...aye it was!" Hastily and shakily he answered. "So..w-will you slay him, great warrior?" "Aye! I will!" And with that answer, Talaran raced back to the bar fetching her helm. "Ye there , lass!" She called to one of the tavern wenches. "See that this boy is taken care of. I must be off." Lastly the woman grabbed her sword and out the door she was running for the main gate of the city, already the stench of smoldering ashes and charred flesh heavy in the air and the beast's roar...echoing far in the distance as a call to challenge, a challenge the warmaiden would meet head on.

As Zeetah stretched out his hand to give the generous Reptil a handshake, the sight of an imposing, heavily-armored man with dark skin stomped down the street, each step booming with impressive power, causing him to flinch and stare as he walked past. Shortly thereafter, he heard fierce shouting over the noisy din of the brothel, and after nearly no time at all, the same giant stomped heavily back out and left. Zeetah did not move the whole time. A few minutes passed in silence until suddenly "DRAGON!! A DRAGON HAS ATTACKED MY VILLAGE!! SOMEONE!! ANYONE!! PLEASE HELP!!" A filthy, singed farm boy with thin streams of smoke rising from his hair and clothing came running through the slums, screaming at the top of his lungs, apparently not knowing where else in the city to look for help at this hour of the night. As if replying to his call, a formidable woman with long, white hair burst out of the brothel, fully clad in heavy armor, swaying slightly. She was carrying a massive sword, and Zeetah did not want to be anywhere near a drunk warrior with a weapon that big. "Oh boy. We'd better go, fellows. I do not want to get mixed up in this." Zeetah backed up and started heading toward the street to leave. "Come on! Let's get out of here!"