Balancing Acts

Perlis, 103 AFB
Early Autumn

The balance was shifting.

A balance carefully crafted. 

A balance carefully maintained for a century.

It was unusual, to say the least, but ever since the acolyte had left to Altharion,

the Balance was thrown off. 

A city reappearing after being sealed off, 

a horde of tieflings -old in their own way- unleashed, 

a Dragon Line hitherto unknown suddenly being cast into the Grid.

The Arm of Forbearance dipped, the Arm of Ruin rose.

The Arm of Hope, too, lifted, but its counterpart in Preservation hung lower than ever.

If the Grandmaster had been there to see it, he would have worried.  

To some degree, he still was there, but his eyes would never glimpse anything again.

The outskirts of Altharion, 
the domain of Sibhaen
103 AFB, early Autumn

The party came from the deep woods, Ke'Vien clutching the Armour to his chest, the others a little more concerned with their injuries. It had been a rough struggle and not a little blood was shed to liberate the gear, the Dragon Line and banish the demonic corruption that had taken root there.

Into the domain of the Dryad, where the injuries lessened and fell away, a mild blessing. 

Water pure and air fresh, the stench of demonic ichor washed from their selves.

The pirate and the cat were looking eager to be off, while both elves felt relieved to stay a little and talk to the nature elemental. A casual wave and a promise to grab a drink at Beiro's later, Ke'Vien was left talking herblore with the dryad and Teresa looking for promising wood to make arrows with.