[color=6ecff6][b][h3] Gadez Paladice [/h3] [/b][/color] [i] The jail [/i] He allowed himself a smirk as Daphne had offered him the choice of eating some crackers. While she had given a few choices, to choose neither option was also a choice. He still had his dried meat rations in his cell, along with his waterskin and armor. The guards had seemingly not deemed that an issue. Not like he was planning an escape, a certain conditions would have to be fulfilled for him to take action. To break free. [b]"Most generous missy. For a... "  [/b] He chuckled softly. [b]".... captive stale alive."[/b] He said in an amused tone. If the guardsmen would try to tie him up in some manner, it would mean likely death or some form of punishment which could severely hamper his prowess. Overall he could not afford being killed or maimed just yet, not that he feared death. It was a natural and unavoidable truth. Accepting it's existance and power was necessary, but it didn't mean he would go there too eagerly. He still had promises to keep. To himself and to others. The dead gave him the strength to move on, those who passed and those who were destined to pass. Protect the stone. Kill Auric. Destroy the two kingdoms. Dawnhaven's victory. Curiousity. These reasons were good enough to continue the struggle, to see what doors could be open. To every action. There is a reaction. Whereof it was a show of irritation, rage or fierce retorts, or if it were silence, reservation or amusement. Each would yield a glimse into what kind of person one would deal with. Of course there were those who donned masks and would try their best to conceal their true nature. But whilst the eyes could be deceived, much like the ears could be. Were it softly coated words or a bards tale. The blonde warrior-monk knew to trust his own intuition. At least to a point. People's true nature would often come creeping through fascades, it made him wonder if any of those he had met had been able to see him through. The thought brought a soft smile to his lips. Elio had chosen silence, it told the blonde plenty about what kind of man he were. [i]'To be quiet can at times tell more about a person than words ever would.  Zephyros had the curiousity and questions, yet was cautious to tell anything about himself, there were some genuine desire to know there, but wariness to trade anything for it, yet unwittingly had nontheless. This man however desires to simply cure his doubts. One jaded by the world, still seeking the flicker in the dark. Yet shy to let others know that very truth. I can sense the emotions from here. This man's words are meant to show one thing, his own perceived image of himself as unworthy and that he is a villain most foul. Yet his physical reactions display the opposite. You are quite the caring one, aren't you, mason of stone. There are things one may outrun in this world, the truth however always manage to catch up.' [/i] Gadez walked over to the sad excuse of a bed and sat down on it. [i]'True nature. That is a curious thing. We traverse down our paths seeking the precious treasure fabled to lie there in the end.  Regardless what happens now, I have won but also lost. I cannot have a complete victory, nor a complete loss. I will of course still, like many others, strive to do my outmost to win the most. Death truly isn't the end fully, isnt that right, you detestable priestess? You are still haunting my memory, you beautiful and relentless specter of the past. I will do what I can to keep the precious stone safe. It does look much like you. My lady lost.' [/i]He thought and stretched his arms momentarily, giving the crackers a glance. [i]'To kill Auric is a necessity, to see the old splintered world crumble and be unified. Quite the lofty goal. But then again, I am not your average warrior, monk nor gardener. I am a weapon and weapons are made to fight with. Have my own strengths led to the weakness of looking down on others? Perhaps so. For who here is my equal in this game, where I cannot lose? No matter what the others choose. Tia is by far my greatest adversary. I cannot let my aspirations waver. Again. Oh you must indeed be watching with amusement, you warring goddess of the sun, sending your most capable to try to stop me. The self-proclaimed champion may claim to champion your cause, yet compared to the priestess she's but a leaf in the wind. Simply going wherever the wind dictates, unable to change directions. Like a puppet in a play. I can only pity such a fate. But family can make you do the oddest of things. I should know. Yet you must have quite the love for irony, Aelios. The little girl gave me such a good front row seat from here. All I must do now is wait. Time shall tell if you, Flynn, have the strength needed to rebel against 'destiny'. Or if we are fated to clash. If you cannot unite Dawnhaven... I will. The victor of the game of life, is the master of hearts. Know them and guide them, and you'll claim the world. Kira. A perceptive and intelligent girl, tactful and guarded. More than a simple herbalist. Not prone to prod. She does not bear the questioning curiousity of a spy nor the urgency of an inquisitor. She might prove to be an able ally, like most blightborn, the success of Dawnhaven is crucial to their existance. The re-emergence of the sun would no doubt bring ruin to those like her and return our world to how it were. A stagnant world where we are but pawns for two goddesses, two sides of the same coin. To be trapped in such a loop is a cruel fate, and that which shall befall the world if I. No. We fail. Leela. An indecisive now snake-shaped blightborn. Claims to be selfish, then shows being the opposite. She is playful and easy-going for one of the afflicted, when the time comes for tough choices to be made, will she be joining the same side as I? Time will tell when she's made up her mind . Flynn. You look just like him. That wretched excuse of a man. Conceited king.Yet time again shall tell if you have the strength to break free, or if you will follow the stream where it is trying to lead you. I am looking forwards to our next meeting, I can sense the unease at your core. Does the idea of us having sprung from the same tree displease you? Whereof you accept it as the grim truth, or the lies of a madman... now that is up to you. It doesn't change the fact our paths are crossing. Amaya. A seemingly tough exterior, but is soft within. You bear the mask better than some however. You are a cunning foe for whomever may count you as their enemy. Yet you bear the pride of youth, much like the self-proclaimed champion. You step up when you've ought to step down. But indeed this isn't your fault. The attack upon you, by what I assume were the wolf-boy shall surely serve as a good lesson. Perhaps you shall grow into the queen you were meant to be? We shall see. ' [/i] The blonde smiled and looked down at his pair of hands. A pair of weapons. Like the rest of his body. He was made of bon, flesh snd blood, yet he could discern that as the truth. His old mentors had done well, even if they were not able to understand his motivations. They had unwittingly made him more powerful. Even now. Without his bladed staff,  Atropos. Without his fire and psychic magic. He knew that his body, his mind and words were dangerous enough of their own.  The right word could sometimes trigger or prevent wars, could sway a champion of light to the dark, or redeem someone far fallen. Who had taught him the art of words? His mind landed on his mother. She had shown him the power of words. A master of words was something to be feared, it could even make swordplay or magic useless at times. He smiled softly to himself. [color=fff200][i]'What was it that the lynx hid within... knowledge dangerous as sin. Tread on steps careful prince Flynn, in this darkened game we seek to win. With eyes of truest blue, the stone has seen you through. A seed planted long ago, to simply tell is a no. To solve the riddle of a puppet show, may tell you of where the paths may go. A grimalkin on silent paws step, born from a wicked tree's sap. Precious gem of a feline bond, of this knowledge you shall not be fond. What was it that the golden star spoke, what was the fire that it stoked? In this quest of war on the divine, comes forth the child of Cymbaline... A star obscured in brilliant light, saved to reign after the final fight... What was it that the lynx hid within? A second child born under a starry sky, to wield the mantle after it would die...'  [/i] [/color]