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[19:00] Dun would offer Arno a genial, missing toothed smile, a sense of calming energy not much unlike that of a crackling, homely hearth manifesting about the ancient wizard. It was clear that whatever lead him to the place he was now, the man was firmly satisfied in the path he walked, and even now had no doubts about his path forward.

The former warlord would take a light sip from his morning juice, mulling upon the words spoken by the young folks about with a click of his teeth.

"There is a poetry to a sightless world, it allows one to be blind to the corruption that swathes about like sickening, coiling serpents. Yet, this relief can only be temporary, for nothing can truly banish such a sensation of rot."

The old priest would nod lightly, blowing a cloud of minty smoke up towards the distant horizon. He'd lower his sunglasses to turn his hollow eye sockets to Arno, revealing just the same that he did not possess sight in the common manner.

"I lost my eyes long, long ago, but I never lost my sight. The flow of the lifestream about you, the frenetic, infinitely pulsating energy of sparking consciousness, that breathes into the world around us louder and more vibrant than any sights of the eyes my child."
(Dun Task)

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[19:05] There were silence, listening with half, hearted attention, though looking onwards at the boy who spoke, half their attention paid to the offeset discussion, though offering a nod.

"I do like the sound of a land where desire rules all; similar to Sluthia, I must say... If only that we have sea's of gold to swim within. There's truly a reason Dragon's love their gold."

However, their attention snaps towards the elderly man, who spoke about never losing his sight. Never before in Theria had the boy paid such attention to a meager few sentences, his inquisitive frown and canting of his head offering sight as to how puzzled he were at the mans words; but moreso, his intrigue. He were so focused, he had even forgotten to greet the newcoming Domino.

"...The Lifestream, you say? I've heard of it, mere child-tales, however. You say you can see, elder?"

The boy, if unable to see the man's gesture,would also take to untying his blindfold, removing it, only to pinch open his closed eyelids, showing black, dried eyes that had never seemed to greet a droplet of blood into them since birth, withered like that of a prune.

"I'd ask you to teach me, if you'd be so kind."
(Arno Kriemhild)
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[19:28] Dun would contently move from the other table to the current one, the near hundred year old wizard wanting to get a better earful of the evening entertainment with a light click of his teeth. The blind priest was nothing if not a patron of the arts, such public spectacles were what had drawn him to the Theria in the first place seventy years prior.
(Dun Task)
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[19:46] Dun would at last awaken from his minute daze, taking in the young Arno's words with a light click of his teeth. The blind youth seemed to desire instruction, and the elder priest was nothing if not a teacher with his prime long gone.

The former warlord would rise from his seat, nodding lightly to Arno as he took a heavy drag from his corncob pipe, clicking his teeth together once more with a hum of contemplation.

"Quite so, young man. I lost my eyes, certainly, but through my meditations, my mastery of energy magic, I learned to attune my senses to the natural flow of life and mana in the world, and so my perception could never be dulled again through darkness or illusion."

The old priest would turn to Arno, tapping his chin lightly as he the one armed elder contemplated his words for a time.

"Such knowledge is not a simple endeavor, however, and it requires great trials and determination to assess. Follow me to the Pyrelight Citadel, we shall assess if you've the candor to be of the Fireblooded."
(Dun Task)
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[20:17] Dun Task would lead the young Arno into the smoky depths of the Pyrelight Citadel, the great, stony temple of the Fireblooded order that had taken Theria by a storm in the last fifty years. The place he'd called home since his retirement from the rigors of overlordship as the apex warlord.

It was practically vacation compared to his youth as a violent revolutionary, times had changed in Theria since the days where the circus reigned over its great fortress. Those were times of anarchic chaos, absolute freedom, and determinate excess, a time when he was the bogeyman that sat upon the mountain orchestrating terrors for Osrona.

How time had flown...

Leading Arno within, he'd gesture with a flick of his prismarine metal gauntleted hand to the obsidian spire in the center of the temple, a pillar that radiated heat that could be perceivable even without sense.

"This is the Pyrelight Citadel, the home of the Fireblooded. We who pursue etheric truths in adulation of the strength and freedom of dragons, they who spread their wings and carve the aether with their span and influence."

The one armed priest would spark a blue flame in his palm, nodding softly to himself in contemplation as he continued to chatter with Arno.

"The life stream is the beating heart of reality, my child. The pulsating life blood of the aether, that which weaves together the fabric of reality between the veil of the living realm, and that of the eight beyond. Those of the elements, and of the spirits."

The elder priest would nod steadily, flowing mana through the air much like a flowing stream, delicate and yet with the strength capable to wear boulders to dust.

"Every magi possesses their own spark of etheric flame, of life within their bosom. It is the same as the steam, we are all upon its grandious current in the same swirling venture of totality and interconnection. Through this understanding, one can perceive its flow, and that which it touches; the auras and essences of those people before you without the masquerade of flesh. This is true sight, that beyond the fables of coercion."

The priest would nod lightly, taking a thoughtful drag from his corncob pipe.

"I can teach you much and more of what lies beyond, but only if you are willing to become an acolyte of the Pyrelight Citadel. To join the monastic brotherhood."
(Dun Task)
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[20:20] * You have been awarded 5 Roleplay Points! *
[20:29] There is much focus paid to the wispy words of the elder, that escape his lips in a sort of tale. A beating heart of reality that paid them their magic of the elements, and etherical ones in which the elder spoke of.

Not the slightest beginning of a word had touched the boys lips whilst the elder spoke, though many questions rest dormant at the front of the boys mind. He had been offered much in his thirteen years upon Eternia; and for some reason, despite the promise of sight... Arno felt something before him. A counterweight, some might call it. Doubt.

"...As a Drakanite, I do share many of these faiths already, without such a label... It is as you spoke, fair elder; That for where boon's should lie, as would bane's. My sight will not come free."

"Tell me, what is the true exchange in this? I'd be most inclined to adorn such a title... Yet I must know."

"What do you expect of my partaking; ofme becoming an Acolyte?"
(Arno Kriemhild)
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[20:34] Task would nod steadily as he puffed away contently on his corncob pipe, blowing a cloud of minty smoke up towards the distant rafters of the grand citadel as the elder priest smiled. It was an amusing question, in truth, and one he was more than willing to attempt to answer.

"Then it is my duty to guide you, hatchling, upon your path of draconic ascension. The trials and rigors that will resolve your hide into iron scales, your etheric sight into that of the apex sky hunter, your bloodborne right."

The elder priest would click his teeth with a light smile, thinking upon the final bit for a moment as he hummed to himself in thought.

"I expect that you contribute as the other acolytes do; through resources and lumber that I might arm and armor you all, and prepare you for the trials ahead as best befits my ability as an elder. In truth, the faith matters less than the philosophy, that of self growth, resolve, and noble brotherhood beside your peers."
(Dun Task)
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[20:40] There were initial skepticism that grace the boy's features in the form of lips that are drawn tight, and a downcast visage that stares sightlessly to the floor, beyond the steps. It were an offer that presented itself better than any other, quite allurig to the boy who had never seen the light of the sun, or the stars, or the moon.

The thought of seeing the faces of those around him were alluring most of all. To see, where all those voices came from. To see his sisters, whom had been his eyes for him. He couldn't protect them, if he couldn't accept an offer to empower him to do so.

"...Very well then. I shall take on the role of an Acolyte, in that case, under the pretense you should enlighten me further on these matters."

"I look forward to this, mm..?"

There were a smile paid to the elder, soft in nature, though bearing a count of elation behind the upcurl of his lips.
(Arno Kriemhild)
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[20:46] Dun Task would nod steadily, flashing his missing toothed grin as he firmly patted the young Arno upon the shoulder with his gauntleted hand. It was settled then, the youth would join the Fireblooded, and in doing so he would find brotherhood and ascension.

It was as befit a keeper of the flames such as Task. He must ignite that burning heart in each and every youth that accepted his wisdom, allow them to find their ambition and iron clad resolve as he had in his youth.

It was cathartic, in a way.

Rising slowly from the bench, the elder priest would begin to pace out with a nod, gesturing behind himself towards Arno with his remaining hand.

"Yes, yes, consider this temple your home within Theria then. A place to come, think, and meditate. You'll meet your fellow acolytes here in due time, and soon enough your path as a dragon will truly begin. For now, I've errands to run, I leave you to it."

And like that, in a puff of wizard smoke, he was gone.
(Dun Task)
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[20:52] There were silence. Perhaps Arno were to speak up after the man had finished, yet the words had never touched his lips; for as soon as the elder had concluded their speech, their breath had escaped them. Perhaps there were something more to the lack of the mans presence that the boy had begun to understand; nearly like a sixth sense of intuition and presumption.

Arno felt no presence; even beyond a lack of breath and the radiating temperature of humankind that the drakanite had grown sensitive skin to understand.

Their attention twists to the radiating warmth within the center of the room; a pillar of obsidian. For the first time since stepping foot upon Theria, they could feel the warmth of the sun... Or so he had figured. There were a radiating sense of wellness that ignites a flame within the very center of the boy's chest, near impossible to suppress the smile that escapes such.

There he sat, for easily an hour, or perhaps two... Relishing in that warmth.
(Arno Kriemhild)
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