Snippet #1218

Arador felt the cooling sensation the glowing caves emitted on his skin. The cold light broke through the fiery foliage and in between the broad tree trunks of Autumn forest, coming to rest on his person. The warmth of this world was solely emitted by the blazing trees around him; their red and orange glow gave a distinct late summery feel. It was always day time here, somewhere between late afternoon and early evening. This was a drowsy world, with no living creatures present, the trees also showed no great intelligence. But it was here Arador strayed, waiting for the people promised him by His Lady.

Wondering a lethargy inducing forest hardly bode well for the up coming journey. There were worlds to be crossed and dangers to be over come, before the real mission could even start. And what was he doing? Trying to stay awake while he waited for a group of confused abductees to arrive. What better way to start such a crucial mission. Mind you, all these thoughts remained safely confined to Arador's head. He was hardly one to complain, or question orders, but that was easier done when a purpose was insight or an obstacle had to be over come. Given these lazy hours to contemplate the last five years didn't do his inner complexion any good. It gave his mind the time to recall and reminisce, and analyze all that had happened since he arrived in Lore'Ella. The resulting thoughts were mostly bitter and cynical. Despite all this his face remained passive, motions calm and confident, stride not broken for a moment. He still had to reach the glade after all.

If there had been a sun he would have glanced at it, but for lack of time telling device, Arador distracted himself by adding of up the various amounts of approximated time he'd spent since this morning. The minuets were getting into the high hundreds when he finally lost count. All was well though since, as he said to himself, he was right on time.

On entering the glade he could see the reality rippling outwards from some central origin. The travelers, or abductees as Arador called them in his mind, would soon be falling, and he did mean falling, out of the rift. For, you see, in the real world rifts to Lore’Ella always originate at the most unexpected and inconvinent places. No one simply "walks" through a rift to Lore'Ella. You are almost garneted to falls, or trip, or dive head first, into the rift. This makes some very amusing entrances, ones which Ardor was all too happy to sit back and wait for.