Prayer and Meditation

[Chiangtao]

The tiny monk found his solitude in the woods. There, he secured an area, sat cross-legged and began to meditate on the day's events.

"One with dragonblood? Unlikely. But it is on my hands now. She chose to war with the gods. She was foolish to choose that path. I was foolish to let her get away.

Her companion was not so lucky. He too chose not to heed my warning, and now he lies at the feet of a Baneguard.

This woman fled, her bravery tossed aside as soon as she realized her comrad could not succeed. The mindless skeleton turned on me next; I fled as well. I will not bring war to the gods. The skeleton does not know, but the gods do. They bore witness to my actions, and to the staying of my hands.

I have her secret, and she now has mine. An assassin with no name, but known by sight, is still at risk. It is time to lay low, but I will find my quarry. Shar, your will be done, by my hand."

[Chiangtao]

The tiny monk finds a thicket in the Viridale. He hides himself well and thinks over the day's problems in the peace and comforting emptiness of the night.

"The secrets of the light are unfolding before me.

Two women, equally insane--
One believes herself to be half-dragon; the other, in touch with the gods themselves. They chalk their abilities up to blessings and blood rather than accept that they may simply be exceptional beings. Their arrogance to hope for such things beyond mortality will cost them their lives, one way or another, by Shar's will.

Two men, equally bald--
One sells his goods with conviction and pride; the other, a man of communication and facility. They have talent and vision, but their intentions are wrapped around inconsequential matters. Carefully-laid plans never work; the longer you plan, the more the scene changes. They will learn to act, or they will perish when they are lost in darkness.

Two students, equally lost--
One a priest and the beacon of darkness; the other, the hand and the shadow. Failing to contact our allies, our purpose in this land becomes unclear. We will find Moth Oira, we emmisaries of the Dark Moon, or..."

He pauses to think on this. "Or what? It matters not. We never know what the future holds. It will unfold, and you will act."

He slips into meditation, stilling his thoughts.