Be afraid of the wooden sword! [Private]

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Timestamp: Second Darkening in the Third Month of Summer, as Serion studies for Lhyllis and Dhwae [Paradigm: As Serion is growing wings]

It seemed things would go well for Serion. If not the transformation, the knowledge that Lhyllis and Dhwae can teach him during his stay would indeed be most helpful. In only the first day Dhwae had made the dark elf put up with some pretty heavy reading, but the dark elf was slick enough to find a few things that he wanted to know on the side.

For one, Serion had been able to locate an astrology chart. Back when the dark elf had been a rather reknowned necromancer, his aspirations had led him to Natura in search of an enchanted glade. His hopes were to turn that wood into his own arcanic staff, but it never seemed like he would have the time. Having constantly studied the ritual, all he needed was to be able to find a safe location, and to learn when the two moons would align.

There are five steps to the Ritual of Astral Mastery, each of which can only be performed once per lunar cycle when Majora and Melora are properly aligned. Within an antechamber, the wizard must construct a stable altar to ground the staff in the Material Plane while simultaneously demarcating the four magnetic directions and the four material elements, as well as their corresponding Astral Essences. The preferred format for such an altar is a Pentacle encicled by a Circle of Magic designed to prevent travel out (and, alternatively, a second circle designed to prevent travel inward), each of the five spaces representing the Material, the Celestial, the Infernal, the Ethereal, and the Astral – the five intersecting planes of existence. At the peak of each of the five points, a candle may be lit to signify parallel planar activity. Moonlight must shine upon the altar in such a fashion so that all runic markings, symbols and vectors are properly illuminated. As it presently stands, only a practitioner of a single discipline of Arcana can successfully construct such an altar.

Serion's memories, at this point had returned, and while each individual ritual was not still embedded in his mind, the essentials to the ritual were. Though thankfully, so far in his searching he had located the text describing the Astral Mastery Rituals, a very necessary thing, as well as an astrology chart.

Smiling as he slides the chart away, Serion was indeed a lucky bastard. It would seem that he had arrived but days before the meeting of the moons. Even if Dhwae and Lhyllis could break him on that same day, he would not miss his chance to begin the ritual. His wood was safely stored in the gear that he had brought along with him upon his return to Natura, and it's waiting for transformation would be put to an end.

Continuing his studies, as directed, the dark elf had to contain his joy. It had been some time since he truly felt like he was accomplishing something, and the feeling was like a drug. It was this type of feeling that drove Serion to reach greater heights, and so far it was ample enough reward.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Timestamp: The Darkening in the Third Month of Summer As Majora and Melora are aligned.

So far Serion's stay in Natura had been pretty easy. The discussions with Lhyllis and Dhwae were progressing, and they had already gotten to work on concoctions that Serion would have to take in preparations for his bodily transformation. The last couple of brightenings had seen Serion training himself physically as well as mentally. Not only had he been made to follow a workout routine, he had been made to spend even more time reading up on texts pertaining to body form manipulation. Surprisingly, there were many entries from druids on transformation techniques, but of course there was nothing as permanent as what Serion wanted to attempt.

Either way, the dark elf found himself a bit exhausted, but the fact that the moons were aligning this very darkening kept his energies from fleeing him. As he returns to his room, a small hut actually, Serion digs through his belongings and draws forth the dark, black wood that he had unbound so many eras ago. The wood emit a slight glow from the green veins sap veins that wrapped around the slender shaft.

Placing the enchanted wood on his cot, Serion moves to the far corner of his hut, and begins the process of drawing out the pentagram required to perform the ritual. Tracing the pentagram out on the floor of his hut, the moonlight easlily covering it through the window, Serion will step back and compare it to the descriptions in the notes he copied during his studies the day a couple of brightenings prior.

Nodding, happy with his drawing, Serion moves over to his enchanted wood and takes it from the bed, drawing forth a silver dagger from the back of his belt, Serion steps just outside the circle containing his pentagram. Closing his eyes, Serion meditates, letting his mind connect to the Plane of Life. Upon attaining clara, the dark elf bends down, touching the circle, to let his energies light up the pentagram, so should the lines wipe away, the pentagram shall remain.

As the pentagram glows with holy energy, Serion stands up and step within, using his energies to raise two Circles of Magic, to keep himself from falling outside of the circle, and to keep anything else from coming in. With his protective preparations in place, Serion begins the first step of the ritual.

The Rite of Identity

The Wizard takes a ceremonial dagger, and imbues it with the essence of his or her craft. The caster then uses the dagger to carve a rune of the mage's selection representing the self, the singular, the individual, upon the palm of the right hand. Blood must flow freely from the palm over the Enchanted Wood, and the Mage should invoke the Material Plane and call upon the four directions and four elements to affirm the identity of the spellcaster and the staff to which he is bound. Continue the invocation repeatedly as needed; only when the wound is magically healed, leaving a scar that tingles but does not hurt, and does the blood then seep into the wood of the staff, is the rite complete.

Setting the enchanted wood between his feet, on the pentagram, Serion holds out his dagger, once more summoning forth the holy energies of the Plane of Life. Infusing the energies into his dagger, Serion moves the point to his right hand, slowly carving out the required symbol--a symbol of self.

As Serion removes the dagger's blade from his hands flesh, a crescent moon is left carved into the palm of his hand. Serion had suffered many wounds, but this one was different. It itched and burned as any other wound, but it also seemed to pulse and tingle with energy, as those that were within the dagger transferred into the symbol upon his hand.

Not letting this hold his attention for but a moment, Serion takes his right hand and reaches down, grasping the rod, letting the blood from the wound flow freely upon the wood, the rod glowing as he begins to speak.

"I call upon the Plane of the Material. I call upon the North, the East, the South, and the West. I call upon Fire, upon Earth, upon Water and upon Wind. I call upon you to see me for who and what I am. See me and recognize me, and the staff that now accepts my offering. See us for what we are, and accept us."

As soon as Serion spoke the first invocation and the energies between him and the rod were passed back and forth, the dark elf could feel himself falter a bit physically. While Serion had been putting himself fully into his training the downside would be that his body would be tired for a while. His mind however, was far from tired. With pure will he kept his legs from bending under the drain of transferring vis.

"I call upon the Plane of the Material. I call upon the North, the East, the South, and the West. I call upon..."

The second repetition led to an even heavier weight upon him. The pressure from the ritual was growing as the blood began to fade from his wound, the rod absorbing all of the life energies that had flowed from the carved symbol. The dark elf's hand pulsed strongly and only intensified the grip on the enchanted wood held before him.

Through gritted teeth, Serion finished the second invocation and pushes onto the third. The pentagram had grown to a blinding brightness, but the dark paladin seemed immune to its effect. Focusing on the rod and the invocation, the pain in the right hand begins to ebb. The blood was all but gone now, and Serion finishes the last of the third invocation.

"...and recognize me, and the staff that now accepts my offering. See us for what we are, and accept us."

As the invocation is completed the pain and tingling both vansihed from his hand almost instantly, and the glowing pentagram dimmed to it's original brightness--the first step of the Ritual complete. The Rite of Identity is complete... Serion thinks to himself as he examines the scar left upon his right palm. The blood that had flown over the enchanted wood was completely gone, absorbed by the magics of the ritual.

Raising his left hand to his brow, still gripping the silver dagger that he had temporarily imbued, Serion brushed away the small bit of sweat that had formed from the mental stress of the ritual. With a thought, and a wave of his hand, Serion brings down his barriers and walks over to his bed. Leaving the pentagram lit up, Serion figured it wouldn't hurt anything to leave it up during his stay. If anything else, he could always draw a new one if need be.

Placing the enchanted wood back in its wrappings and tucking it away again, Serion strips down for the night. His morning would be an early one, and he needed all the sleep he could get. For the next month he would put all he had in whatever Lhyllis and Dhwae threw at him. With what they had planned, the next alignment would be soon enough.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Timestamp: The Darkening in the Last Month of Summer As Majora and Melora are aligned.

For one month Serion had now been in Natura, and Lhyllis and Dhwae had spared him no leniency in his training. In order to build up his body for the physical transformation he'd be undertaking hehad spent long and arduous candlemarks doing physical conditioning. Luckily, some of it was spent in training with his blades, as it was explained to him that his dual wielding style made great use of the muscles around his shoulder blades. Time was also spent fighting hand to hand with Dhwae--of course by fighting it mmeant getting thrown around in all sorts of directions by the much older, and much more agile female. Were it a younger Serion, pride would have caused him to lose his head, but the dark elf had learned much in his many eras of life, and though he rarely showed it, humility was one of them.

Making his way to his hut as darkenss began to encroach upon the henges, Serion takes a moment to rest his tired body, sitting on his cot. The dull glow of his spell still illuminated the pentagram that he had created as his Altar of Magic for his Ritual of Astral Mastery. Looking out his window, right above where he had drawn the pentagram, the two moons could be feintly seen. It would not be long, perhaps a couple of candlemarks, before the moons fully aligned and Serion could complete the second part of the ritual. Pulling out the notes he had taken from his studies, Serion goes over the next ritual, so he could be prepared.

The Rite of Convocation

Taking the ceremonial dagger, and imbuing it as before with the essence of the Wizard's craft, the dagger is then used to carve a rune of the mage's selection representing the other, the plural, the collective, upon the palm of the left hand. Blood must flow freely from the palm, as before, over the Staff of Enchanted Wood, and then should the Mage invoke the Material Plane and call upon the four directions and four elements to affirm the native membership of the caster with the plane in which he performs this ritual. The invocation must be continued repeatedly, as in the first step, and concluded only when the wound is magically healed, leaving a scar in the left palm and blood vanished, absorbed entirely by the staff.

Serion had already planned out what he wished to place upon his left hand. His right hand bore the scar of a crescent shaped moon--the original symbol of House D'Rinishad. Serion was of but a few members that still bore that house crest, due to its downfall so long ago. For his left hand, he would use the symbol Montran, meaning change. It was this symbol that Serion had added to the original House Symbol, to indicate the change of the House--the others that Serion had brought into his family.

Raising from his bed, once the vysstichi lord had managed to get the ritual memorized, Serion reaches back into his belongings and draws out the Enchanted Wood, it's greenish sappy veins still glowing slightly. Noting that the moons had aligned properly, Serion steps inside his pentagram, and continues the process that he had started a month ago. Bringing forth his two Circle's of Magic, Serion sets the rod at his feet, and draws forth his silver dagger, holding it in his right hand. Closing his eyes, Serion meditates, reaching out to the Plane of Life once more, and drawing the raw energies into his dagger.

Bringing the dagger's edge to his left palm, the dark elf sratches out the symbol Montran, it's itchy burning matching that of his right hand when he performed the first part of the ritual. Once completed, Serion reaches down and graps the rod with his bloody left hand, letting the blood flow over the wood. Just like the first part of the ritual, Serion voices a similar incantation: "I call upon the Plane of the Material. I call upon the North, the East, the South, and the West. I call upon Fire, upon Earth, upon Water and upon Wind. I call upon you to recognize me. Recognize my origins, my life, my very existance. See that I am of the Material as well, that I am a part of the whole that is this Plane."

Just as the previous ritual had been done, so too did Serion will himself through the three invocations required to complete his latest task at hand. The first Ritual had prepared him for what to expect, and even still his body would have probably given into its desire to crumple under the arcanic pressure were it not for his indominatable willpower. While the efforts Serion put forth seemed to take mere moments to him, candlemarks had passed by the time his final invocation is completed.

Watching as he speaks, Serion sees the blood begin to ebb, the rod eventually beginning to draw the thaumaturgist's life's blood into itself, and closing the wound, leaving a scar similar in nature, though more fresh than the one on his right hand. Even with the ritual complete, however, Serion did not lower his protective barriers right away. Instead, he dropped into a sitting position to rest. Between the mental strain of the ritual, the loss of blood, and the physical training he had been undertaking, the second ritual was indeed a trying one. It was perhaps an additional candlemark that Serion sat there and rested, meditating slightly to clear his mind.

When he felt a bit less drained Serion rose, dagger in his right hand and rod in his left. It was time to sleep, the dark elf knew, and it would be yet another month before the next portion of the ritual. Parting the barriers, Serion steps out, cleaning his dagger and sheathing it as he moves to store his rod. Stopping, Serion eyes the enchanted wood curiously, noticing that the rod was in fact no longer a rod. Having elongated slightly, the rod looked as though it had been flattened on two sides. The vysstichi had read that the staff would transfigure as the ritual progressed, but he had obviously never experienced the ritual before.

Curious... he thinks to himself as he packs the wood away. Perhaps if he got the chance he could look more into the transfiguration process. A month was a long time, so surely the dark elf would find himself studying in the books once again. For now, though, Serion found himself moving towards his cot, and stripping down. While a month may have been some time away, the morning was much closer, and so was the training that the two Naturan's would put him through once again.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Timestamp: The Darkening in the First Month of Autumn As Majora and Melora are aligned.

It was that time again, and as sore as Serion was, he couldn't afford to pass up this moment. From what he had read, a missed alignment could cause everything up to this point to be a failure--and Serion was never one for failure. Letting his eyes fall upon the dimly glowing pentacle, still up from when Serion had last used it, pauses for a moment to let himself relax. One of the benefits of everything he had been doing in between his treatments for his bodily transformation was learning a variety of techniques for cleansing ones mind and body of distractions. While pain wasn't erradicated, it was subdued to an ignorable level, allowing Serion's full concentration for the task at hand.

Walking over to his belongings next to his cot, the dark paladin unrolls the wrap containing his precious enchanted wood. It was already two rituals in and the shape was distinctly different from when Serion had first brought it along with him to Natura. A slight smile comes to his lips as he stares at the glowing green veins on the ebon wood. He had originally chosen this wood to fit his appearances as a necromancer, but it would have to do as his conduit to the more holy of arcanic arts. Picking up the rod, Serion skims through the notes he took when he found all of the ritual's information in his studies a few months prior. "The third ritual...." Serion mumbles to himself as he lets his finger slide down to the notes on todays task.

The Rite of Arcana

Entering a meditative trance, the Wizard focuses upon the essence of his discipline, but once a proper focus has been established, he must then channel power into the Material Plane and open his eyes and recognize simultaneously both his physical and metaphysical states. Ordinarily, this would cause a spell to fizzle, however, if the Rite of Identity and Rite of Convocation were properly performed, the Arcane Pentacle or Altar will prevent the loss of the meditative trance, and instead, the Enchanted Staff will begin to levitate upon its own will. The Mage should not be alarmed by the presence of sights or sounds that surround said levitation; it is a normal occurrence. The Wizard must then attempt to shape the mana into a spell of Abjuration into the Staff, Alteration throughout the Staff, and Evocation within the Staff. Confirmation of the spell and its success is obtained when the staff glows and descends on its own accord.

Stepping onto his altar once more, Serion places the rod at his feet, in the center of the pentacle. Waving his hand, Serion evokes the two Circle of Magic spells designed to keep anything from passing in or out of the pentacle's circle. The moons were aligned and Serion was ready to begin the ritual.

Eyes still closed, Serion lets his mind attain the meditative state that allows arcanic practitioners to channel their given essences. Unlike normal instances however, Serion opens his eyes upon gaining access to the Thaumaturgic Plane and channels the holy energies before him like a glob of unaltered energy. As he did so, the normal "clara sight" that Serion was used to altered, his focusing on the material plane allowing him to see more than he had ever seen before in his time as a spellcrafter. Not only did the dark elf see magical auras, but the ara surrounding the entire room, and the vis that held everything around him together. It was a very bright experience--a psycodelic experience that would best even the strongest herbologist homebrew.

As Serion takes in the scintillating sights, he does notice that a glowing swirl of energy begins to lift his rod about waist level, holding steady. Such lights would normally have blinded even Serion were it not for the effects of the ritual, as dark elves were notorious for their dislike of light. Of course, Serion wasn't worried about letting such thought even cross his mind. Instead, he knew the next step needed to be completed before the alignment had passed. He had lost track of time already, as during the ritual time didn't seem to be completely the same as normal.

Taking the raw Essence of Life, Serion moves it towards the rod, encompassing the wood as he begins the Abjurationn process. Slowly letting the energy pass through the wood, Serion's eyes widen a bit as he watches the color of the staff alter throughout the process. While the wood was once black with green veins, the Life Essence had made its mark, and instead left the rod a silvery color with golden-yellow veins.

Not letting the transformation hinder him, Serion moves on, Altering the Essence so as to ensure the rod was completely encasing it. Making sure that every fiber of the rod was intertwined with the essence--thanks to the ritual allowing him to focus on the material plane so well--Serion breaths in deep as he spreads his hands. Holding his hands on either side of the rod, making sure not to touch it, Serion evocates the energy within the rod, in hopes to make the two pieces into one.

At the instant that the Evocation takes effect, the rod glows a brilliant golden light. Once again, Serion finds himself immune to the beautiful brightness, and he merely stands here as he watches the rod drift slowly to the ground, the energies that had been holding it aloft dissipating, indicating that the Essence had been sealed properly within the wood.

Had Serion not been going through the training he had been with Lhyllis and Dhwae, this magical endeavor probably would have been extremely exhausting. As it was, however, the vysstichi found himself less tired than the previous two rituals that actually drew from his life's blood. Far from energetic, though, Serion knew that he needed to get to bed for the next day's training. Two more months and the staff would be complete.

Letting his barriers drop, Serion reaches down and grasps his enchanted rod. The rod had elongated once more, during the evocation process and was now about the length of the swordsman's arm. Inspecting the newly altered rod, Serion notices that a quarter of the staff was segmented from the other three-quarters with a circular disk that had sprouted from the rod. The look reminded Serion of a crude practice sword, and the dark elf could only smile. The notes had stated that the staff would transform based on the personality and interests of its master. It was indeed no secret what Serion's interests were, and the staff was proving that fact even more.

Taking the staff to the large cloth wrap, Serion covers up the staff and stashes it away once again. Moving to the cot, he strips down and gets in. It wasn't long before he fell asleep, and it was with thoughts of him wielding his new staff that he hoped his past few dreams wouldn't come about. They were indeed wierd as of late and eventually he would have to ask Lhyllis and Dhwae about them. Surely they knew someone that could look into the issue.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Timestamp: The Darkening in the Last Month of Autumn As Majora and Melora are aligned.

The Rite of Invocation

The Wizard must activate the Enchanted Staff, causing it to levitate upon its own will. At this point, the Wizard must give a name to the Staff by speaking to it and declaring it to be so. The Mage must repeat this invocation thrice, and after the third time issue a statement affirming that this is his will. Finally, the Wizard must call to the Staff simply by will of mind, concentrating upon the name given to it. When the staff responds by leaving the Pentacle, the Wizard must extend his palms, showing the scars of the two runes which shall never heal, and grasp the staff. The Rite of Invocation concludes when the Staff ceases radiating power.

Serion read the words over and over again as the night began to take over the Naturan sky. It had been many months since Serion had begun his stint in Natura, wishing to transform himself into a mory celestial visage. It was indeed a time consuming process, and after having gone over some dreams he had been having as of late, Serion was worried that perhaps his time here was causing strife elsewhere. The image he had involving Dimersti had left him a bit uneasy, and surely his family could use his aid. While Faust was an excellent comrade and friend, even he had plenty other things to worry about.

Placing the notes down on his cot, Serion unrolls the wrap that protected his unfinished staff. It was obvious to Serion now that the staff was truly becoming one with his soul by the shape it was taking. While still a bit rough, it was obviously molding itself into a sword like object. In fact, it reminded Serion of a practice sword he had once used many eras ago when he was still a young swordsman.

Smiling at some of his more fond of memories, Serion stands and walks over to the still feintly glowing pentacle that was serving as his altar for the past few months. Placing the staff in the center, and inspecting the drawings to make sure all is in order, the vysstichi moves away from the circle and closes his eyes, meditating. Erecting only a single Circle of Arcana this time, Serion makes sure nothing can go in, but if all goes well the staff will float out towards him.

Looking out the window, making sure the moons had aligned correctly, Serion begins the ritual. Holding a hand out, Serion Activates the staff, using his vis to cause the arcanic energies in the staff to glow ever so slightly. Watching as the staff begins to rise, Serion licks his lips in preparation.

"As a person without a name is nothing, so too is an object. Just as I have chosen to be the light in order to create darkness, so shall you be a light whose sole purpose is to create darkness as well. I name thee "Light's Darkness", granting you purpose and name."

Repeating this three times, as the ritual requires, Serion feel a pulse from the staff with each statement, indicating the ritual was moving forward succesfully. Upon the third declaration, Serion takes a knee and outstretches one hand, keeping the other close to his body. Both palms are facing the staff as Serion concentrates on Light's Darkness.

"As I have named you, thusly shall you obey. Light's Darkness, come to me. Come and serve your master so that we may fulfill the expectations that your name so inclines."

Speaking plainly as he reaches out with his will, tugging on the staff with his vis, Serion watches as the staff slowly floats in his direction, handle end first. As it gets within reach, the vysstichi places his hands upon the silver wood, one grasping the handle firmly and the other grasping what would be best described as the blade. With a dull flash, Serion felt the connection between him and the staff solidify even more. His hands could actually feel the staff alter within his grasp--the handle rounded to an easier grip, the blade thinned much more, leaving an unsharpened appearance.

Watching in amazement at the transformation, Serion had not realized that more than a few moments had passed once the transformation had finished. In fact, this particular part of the ritual seemed to have been the easiest thus far. Rising slowly, inspecting the "Staff", Serion was impressed at how well balanced it seemed for a piece of wood. Had he not known what it was, he could have easily mistaken it for a gaudy practice sword. The silver colored wood still held the golden veins curling around it in everywhich way, but its pattern was such a natural one that it could be construde as nothing less than beautiful.

Placing Light's Darkness back in his wrap, Serion knew that only a month from now his staff would be complete. Even though he wasn't tired after this ritual, as the others, Serion knew that he needed to sleep anyway. Surely the women would have him doing more meanial tasks to strengthen his body. His shoulderblades had indeed been getting a bit tender, but nothing he couldn't put up with. That in mind, the vysstichi stretches out in his cot and closes his eyes. Tomorrow was but another day.

[Serion D'Rinishad]

Timestamp: The Darkening in the First Month of Winter As Majora and Melora are aligned.

The time had finally arrived for Serion's staff to be complete. The final month of alignment needed to work the fifth ritual had made itself known, and Serion was ready. He was already holding Light's Darkness in his hands, and the pentacle maintained its soft glow before him. The moonlight slowly made its way to the altar and Serion began to set the staff down at its center.

Stepping back, Serion doesn't even bring up the Circle of Arcanas that he had been using thus far. The staff would either come to him, or it wouldn't--the ritual was that straightforward. Closing his eyes, Serion recalls the notes in his head:

The Rite of Eternity

In the final rite of the Ritual of Astral Mastery, the Wizard must clear his mind of extraneous thoughts, as if he were preparing a meditative trance, but instead of focusing upon the projection of the metaphysical into the Astral Plane, he must instead conjure the staff by focusing upon it, using whatever markings necessary to visualize the staff itself through its name and the spellcaster's identity, merging as one. When the Staff vanishes and translocates itself into the hands of the Mage, the Rite of Eternity is complete, and a unique Staff of Arcana, bound to the soul of the spellcaster, is created.

"Focus on Light's Darkness...." he says quietly to himself, clearing his mind. Where he would normally focus his thoughts into obtaining a link with the Plane of Life, instead he pictures the symbols on his hands. Connecting the two symbols, floating horizontally, Serion places the image of Light's Darkness. Turning his will upon the image--the combination of his own physical markins as well as the Staff itself--Serion concentrates. The beginning and the end connected by Light's Darkness was to be the symbol Serion would use for his Staff.

"Light's Darkness, I call upon thee. Come to thine Master and serve him. As a swordsman is one with his sword, so too do I wish to be one with you. My power shall wield you and in turn your power shall be wielded. It shall be these two powers that dance gracefully, intertwined forever, and all you need to do is heed my call."

Like most of the rituals, Serion had to put his all into performing them. His brow began to sweat slightly as he focuses his will and vis upon the sword laying but feet away from him. Holding the vision of Light's Darkness and the two Ritual symbols in his mind, he can only hope that all had been done correctly, and his hard work would pay off.

Strengthening his will upon the image, Serion sends one final pulse of vis into his summoning. In a blink, Light's Darkness had vanished from the spot within the pentacle, and found itself before the dark elf. With gracefully movements, Serion's hands move out, grasping the staff as one takes a sword offered to them. The ritual had been completed, and Light's Darkness had finally attained its final form.

Completely silver, the golden veins no longer existed on anything but the handguard-like area that seperated the "handle" from the "blade". Stabbing Light's Darkness into the air, Serion revels in the link between him and his Staff...no...Sword of Arcana. "Light's Darkness is now born unto this world. The ritual is complete and we are now one."

It is with these words that Serion lowers the wooden sword and slides it into his belt, Light's Darkness taking its place next to Jorel's Fangs. An odd sight he would be, walking about with three shortswords, but the Staff weighed nothing to the Paladin. It would be tomorrow that Serion would speak with Lhylis and Dhwae about taking a hiatus. There were things that needed to be done, and staying here this long had been selfish enough. Too excited to sleep, Serion headed off for a while, simply to let his mind wrap around his achievement. This was indeed something that Serion was very proud of himself for to say the least.