The Benevolent Zorai

[xorte]

It was a hot and dry day in the height of Atys Summer. The Sun beat down fiercely on the shifting
sands of Fyros, even the gentle breeze was not enough to ease the discomfort of the intense heat.

Even the cloppers down by Ovlaks Oasis were seeking the coolness of the Oasis water and the shade of the
nearby Perfling trees.

There was a humid mist hanging in the air south of Thesos, such as was common when the neighbouring land
of Zorai was caught in a jungle storm. It was a strange feeling to stand beneath the shadow of the mountains
and see the dark clouds gathering far above the Zorai landscape. Flashes of light searing across the sky as if
Jena herslef was standing on the highest peak venting her anger at those below, hurling lightening from her angry
fingers.

And it was on such a day that from the mists of the Zorai mountains a figure wrapped in a dark cloak emerged from
the foothills, his cloak steaming as the hot Fyros sun evaporated the moisture from it.

As the figure approached Thesos his features became more visible and it was clear that this was a man of great age as
he was bent over as he walked. In his younger days he would have been very tall even for a Zorai, yet it was
impossible to tell how many moons he had walked the face of Atys for his Zorai mask was still as white as the moon,
and as striking as the fiercest warriors gaze.

And as the Zorai made his was slowly through the desert, news of his arrival made its way across the villages and towns as
the Fyrosians began to recognise who this man was. This was no ordinary man and no ordinary Zorai, but Atys' last
great Sorcerer. Long ago he had been taught the secret ways of the Kami masters. Only a few who were not of Kami blood had
ever been taught and even then it was against the wishes of the Kami high council, as it was thought the power would
be too much to handle. And for some it was; Dark times had fallen across Atys in those days and thus the Kami swore never
to teach their arts outside their own race again.

This ancient Zorai had lived so long due to his mastery of the Kami arts and no-one knew how long he would yet live. For
he changed his ways and now followed the path of a Sage. Wise and holy and using his powers only in times of great need.

The ancient figure walked slowly across the desert plains making his way towards the capital city of Pyr. No animal, man
or beast interrupted his march. Even the Gingos scattered, bounding away from him as he approached the walls of Pyr.

The towns people watched him in silence as he walked through the Pyrosian streets, circling through the maze of shops and
pathways as if he had built them himself. Finally reaching the Palace gates he entered, where non halted his progress.

He walked through the palace gardens, smelling the sweet flowers that bloomed there, and admiring the beauty of the lake.

From across the far side of the lake he could see the Throne room. The King was seated on his throne and there were many
Fyrosians eating and drinking and listening to a band of musicians who were playing a merry tune.

As the bent over sage entered the Throne room the music stopped and all eyes turned to him. He reached a hand up to his head
and slowly drew back his dark hood so that the King could see his ivory mask.

The King recognised him instantly and somewhat surprised he asked "What do you want here benevolent sage?". The King was
a proud and fierce man, not easily caught off guard, and certainly he feared no-one, not even one attributed with the power of
the Kami.

"I would like a place to sleep in this Inn" replied the sage calmly.

The King was taken aback and slightly puzzled by this, "But this is not an Inn old man" replied the King "Why this is
my Palace! ..... has the Fyros Sun got to your head or are you starting to show signs of your age?" retorted the King
with a smirk.

Everyone was silent. Waiting to hear what the sage would say or do.

"May I ask who owned this palace before you?" asked the great sage quietly.

"My father, but he is dead" replied the King.

"And who owned it before him?" said the sage.

"My Grandfather, he too is dead" answered the King, still puzzled.

"And this place where people live for a short time and then move on - did I hear you say that it is NOT an inn?" replied
the wise Sage.

There was a sudden sweeping murmour of voices in the Throne room and then silence as the sage shook his head and walked out
of the room leaving the Pyrosians to consider what he had said.

[glipe]

This is nice! But I go to an inn to drink beer. Maybe if he had asked for that?

[alibasil]

Thats a great one! Loved it