The crunch of dirt under heel was the only thing that accompanied Abaddon as he traveled through the Morallean countryside, with the sun shining upon his face, and the cool breeze on his back. He'd gotten some odd looks from the odd traveler on horseback, what with neither looking like some kind of drifting vagrant, nor as if he had just barely escaped a highwayman's assault with his life. Though, years of using the exact same method of travel had managed to allow his leg muscles and stride to sufficiently adapt to his current situation. The fact he'd had managed to depart quite early enough in the afternoon following his first home-cooked meal in who knows how many years merely helped to make his arrival time at the Golden Tablet occur much sooner than later. 

"Ah, 'ere we go," the courier remarked as the temple walls of the Golden Tablet came into view on the horizon. The building sheltering the monument to Morallean unity looked mighty old and grand, that was for sure. He'd never actually managed to see the place, what with having a much busier schedule, being both an exile and a courier. No time to waste going on side trips when there was money to be made and taxes to be paid. Damn Drakovians. 

As Abaddon approached, he noted the footprints. Something from someone big and stocky, if the depth compared to his own was to say. There was also a horse and another set of prints, which meant there were at least two other representatives present. Who knows, maybe he was the last to arrive? After all, [i]he[/i] didn't know what sneaky magics those magi from Magiya were up to...

Still, he put his hand to his hip, just barely touching the handle of the fully-loaded Wild Card. One can't really tell whether or not a person's a friend or foe based merely upon whether or not you're [i]expecting[/i] allies... With silenced steps, Abbadon entered the temple.