Armanthor’s realm consists of many floating isles, that look like pieces of land that were ripped out of the ground and now float high up in the air. The Iowenians have evolved to cope with this high altitude living, and may even be magically altered to exist there. The main island is vary vast, as large as a medium sized continent, and possessed of many terrain features that favor agriculture and production, which are rolling grasslands, and grand forests of evergreens that stretch to the clouds (as these cities do not quite reach the clouds). The main island even has a mountain chain. The land below has many great craters, close to the massive islands, below are vast unexplored territories, where the Iowenians explore, but do not stay. They prefer their settled land to the vast wilds of the Below.

The main island for which the Iouwenians call their home isn't the only one, there are many, many more.  Far through out the realm, hovering above the massive craters from whence they were rejected, many other islands float through out and stretch across the realm.  They range in size and feature.  The land Below is far different than above, darker denizens lie below the settled land of the Iouwenian.  The craters have mostly filled over with vegetation, or other natural features, but still exist.

Armanthor’s people are the Iowen, they are a sophisticated culture of battle ready men and women, even the children are trained in the art of battle and combat. His people appear to be fair humans, with strong features, often beautified individuals that revel in pleasurable pursuits, as well as combat. Their only difference from human beings is their wings. They have the capability of flight, and many have grand wings ranging in color and grandeur. Their hair and eye color range from very light blonde, to dark or raven black. Eye colors are often gold, silver, blue, grey, or violet, or some other light color.

These people are lustful as well, and are taught to give into their lustful pleasures on a whim. They are very sexual people, some might even say that they are obsessed with sex. A man may have many partners at a time, and a woman wouldn’t mind a bit, so long as she is able to have her own man as well. When ever there is a jealousy between shared lovers, that is, women or men that both share the same lover, some form of challenge is devised by the lover they are fighting over. If that cannot be arranged, then a higher authority must devise the conflict. This can be anything from a fight to death, to a performance of some skill or trick, or a challenge such as a race or marathon, the challenge is limited only by the imagination of the challenger. The winner, of course, ousts the competitor and they must go their separate ways. This is a common practice to be rid of lovers if one wishes to marry only one of them, this is how they may decide.

Aside from their sexual nature, they also have festivals that could last for weeks, or even months depending upon what the ruler wishes. This could be a festival to honor combatants, in which fighting games, sport hunting, and challenges for certain weapon types occur between combatants. The most honored amongst these combatants are the champions, men that have tested their mettle in combat time and time again, and have earned their place as equals to nobles. These men have no special powers, just experience and a certain amount of medals and honors to their names, as well as amazing combat feats that they have accomplished in battle.

Gladiatorial matches are common, either between men trying to win their freedom or pardon from a crime, or between young cadets that have, for one reason or another, been unable to be placed in the Iowenian army. Unlike other fighting sports, gladiatorial matches are often to achieve the death, maiming, or dismemberment of their opponents. The winner gains what ever honor the ruler has set out, be it freedom from slavery, pardon for a crime, or ascension into the ranks as an officer for young cadets.

Criminals accused of the most heinous of crimes have their wings torn out, and are cast over the side of the floating piece of land that these beings inhabit, or cast out on the low ground, in which they are to walk with whatever heathens and beasts that they find down there. Those that are to live in exile are usually former officers or soldiers accused of a crime, they are given no weapons, and have one arm or hand dismembered in some shape or form. Some may be blinded, or other wise maimed. Those that are specifically revered and decorated may simply be cast into exile. If one survives the fall, then he most cope with the cruel land beneath him. To be exiled is to never be allowed to return, and if the exiled person should be seen ever again, he would be killed. An exiled person may no be maimed, it’s possible, but improbable. An exiled person never has their wings maimed, but are stripped of all worldly belongings, and even worse is that their family must live with the shame of having a member exiled.

The nobles are definitely richer than the more common Iowenian, but they do not see themselves as better than them. Some may even walk amongst their followers as an equal, it is common practice for nobles and royals to mingle with merchants, and commoners. Though these people do carry a certain sense of pride. They look upon folk that are wingless as lesser beings.

They are also innately haughty and arrogant, and capable of great ardor, and commitment to their people, land, and cause. They are also possessed of vengeful spirits and are quite vindictive. The best and worst of them usually are quite capable of carrying vendettas over that may last for generations, and may even go to the lengths of passing down plots and schemes to family members. If their great sense of equality and acceptances are their best attributes, then their ambition and pride are their worst. Politicians that get on one another’s bad sides, or ambitious politicians may resort to dishonorable acts to get their coveted positions. It is not common, but as a tactful people, it has certainly happened.

They are also very long lived, having triple the normal life span of an average human, so that they could live to be at least 250 or older, no more than 400, though.

   Armanthor broke through the clouds in a burst of speed as he descended from the cold, upper atmosphere and into the lower.  His statuesqe form soared into the blue divide, his golden eyes perceiving the vast landscape below.  His powerful, golden wings carried him downward to what ever he saw below.  His face was serene as he made his way through the heavens like a soaring sun.

   Flying like this through the clouds, wind through his hair and caressing his form, he felt like this was right.  The feeling oblivious flight, letting any troubles wash away with the wind as he flew across the sky.  Not that he had any troubles, not that he knew of, at least.  Though the general euphoria was a pleasing feeling to him.  As the largest island below him grew in size, from his perspective, he prepared to make his landing.

   When he did land, he landed with grace as a gymnast or dancer would.  His powerful form moved forward as he overlooked the horizon from his grounded position.  Letting the information sink in, he drew his blade and shield, and started forward.

Armanthor saw the many floating islands of Eulysia - in particular the main agricultural island where many Iowen worked at the fields. There were golden arches and the architecture was deeply refined. The people were happy. There was an island filled with an arena where people fought for sport. Everything seemed pleasant.

Below, the sea raged and storms were brewing. Below, in the wild greens and wicked browns, danger dwelled.

   Armanthor kept sight of the dangerous looking Below, casting a glance in that way for jsut a second and pondering over its connotations before turning back to the people that so resembled him.  He began to descend upon one of the main thoroughfares, coming down to a place in the fields where there were workers and there were roads that lead to the city.

   He looked at his people as he landed, assessing their reactions.

They were shocked and in awe. They'd always suspected their God would return to them.. but now? Like this? It was literally an awesome sight.

   Armanthor looked at them all, and said, "Who's your highest ranking officer, or the one who leads your people and armies.  "

   He let their initial reactions slide off of him as if he didn't notice.  He sat there and awaited one of them to answer.  He was glad to see that his people were fine and well, hopefully they would all be well trained enough to expel an invading force if they had to.  Hopefully they were well trained.  If not then there would be a time for that.  He had to see what was runnign well here and what wasn't, only then would he be able to make a well informed decision about his armies and people.

A tall, broad man bearing a heavy saber stood towards his Lord. "That is I, sir," he said. "I am known as Lord Calbrey, and I am Ruler-General of this land. I offer my services to you."

He wasn't native to Eulysia; simply a man.

   Armanthor looked at the new man, at first thinking that he had had his wings ripped out, but he then dismissed that idea as he realized that he was somehow different than the others.  He extended his hand in greeting, reaching to grasp the other's hand, and then smiled at him, "Calbrey? I see that you aren't one of the Iowen, you're something else.  I suppose it doesn't matter, as long as you're leading the Iowenian well.  "

   "Though I am curious, where did you come from? ", Armanthor asked the m

"I've come from Luan Dan," he said, "In the Earthborn Territories. Some of us merc out, and I thought I could help Eulysia and it's fine folk in return for citizenship and a high title. They haven't disagreed. The military is more effective now then it's ever been."

Calbrey smiled. "Forgive me, sir, if I don't refer to you as 'Lord'; strictly atheist, myself."

   Armanthor nodded, "I see, as long as it doesn't get in the way of me and my people, then we are fine.  Believe what you may, you're a leader not for your belief but for your abilities as a warrior.  All that I ask is that I have your loyalty and that should I call on you in battle, you will be there to lead my armies.  "

  Armanthor was silent, letting the weight of that silence sink in as he watched the man's reaction.

"You'll have my loyalty. Comes with the job. All I ask is that I retain my privelages and my citizenship.. these people are my people, now, and Eulysia is unlike anything I've ever seen on Earth."

Calbrey was expecting this. He was confident, but not cocky, secure but not arrogant. He seemed the perfect leader.

   He knew this man would be a good leader and would serve him well.  Hopefully he wouldn't need him so soon, for to do so would have more sinister or complicated implications.  There were some matters he would like to discuss before galavanting off to other places in his realm.

Armanthor smiled,"Then all is well, you can keep your title and status as one of the citizens of Eurasyia, I'll not deny you that.  That's settled then.  But Earth? You mean to tell me that you're from another plane, not from this realm? "

   Armanthor seemed intrigued by the idea, but not overtly so.

"I was born within the Earthborn Territories - I am a Supernatural-Earthborn, not a refugee. But yes.. my people are from another world, linked strangely with this one, and this gives me certain abilities most other mortals cannot match, such as, uh.. 'telepathy'.. I am also a qualified nanotechnologist, but I understand that the technology is limited here."

   "I've never heard of nanotechnology, but I am a returned god and I would suppose that may  have something to do with the lack of better technology here.  That's strange indeed, I'm very curious about this world that my realm is linked to.  Very interesting.  ", he said, bringing his hand up to cup his chin as he thought.

   "That first power of yours, keep that between you and me.  We don't want to tell others about it, understood? ", Armanthor said in a whisper, alluding to the telepathy that he was talking about.

   "Though, how would I enter the Earth Born territories? COuld I go there if I so wished? "

"Understood, Lord. Rumours have spread of my ability to read thoughts, but it is only that: a rumour. As for entering the Territories, typically you'd need to secure first-tier permission from the Hall of the Sun, then second-tier permission from the Earthborn embassy, and finally third-tier permission from the Chapel of Methodes.. but I can take you there now, as a guest, if you'd like. I'd need to work with you and your ability to create portals, however."

  Armanthor nodded, "Ah, well, then I heard nothing of that.  After all, there's no such thing as telepathy.  Then let us see this world, if I'm a guest then I would assume I wouldn't need permission.  I'm ready to start on the portal when you are.  "

With that Armanthor summoned a portal, waiting on Calbrey to assist him.

Calbrey looked towards the portal, raised an arm, and spoke in a voice of metal: "One-zero-malkuth-zero-zero-circle.."

Suddenly, the portal flared, and they were both through.

(Continue in: The Earthborn Territories)

Max appeared here, with Dxacku. She turned to him, smiling. "We'll be safe here. Now, was there something you wished to discuss?"

"Nothing in particular," said Dxacku. "I was wondering if you'd allow me to stay within your floating temple. It is very nice. Perhaps I could be king of your floating temple?"

"Well.. you'd have to marry me to be king, and I like someone else already. You could be a bishop or a rook, though. A knight, even!" She said kindly. "However, I have to warn you that most people who visit my realm die horribly soon afterward. You're not like most people, though, are you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:50, Wed 18 Nov 2009.

"Ah, no," smiled Dxacku. "I'm unkillable. Now, aheh, about these explosives.. when are they meant to go off? Will they take the whole place? I have some very important, uh, valuables in your lower vaults.."

"I'd say two minutes."

Max opened a portal to his realm. "Lead the way, Dxacku."

There was a panicked moment as they dashed down to the catacombs, as fast as possible -

Rushed down stairs and stairs and stairs through the door and ticktickticktick -

Entered Dxacku's camp in the lowest areas, he picked up the large metal case with both hands and rushed up -

"A faster way," thought Max, running as fast as possibly to the portal -

He stopped.

To his left, he was blinded by the beauty of a particularly fine set of ceremonial armour.

Did he have enough.. ?

Maxine reached out and tucked the armor away somewhere, somehow, before leaping through a Portal with Dxacku, landing back in Eulysia with flame roaring over their heads.

She pulled a dressing screen out of nowhere, set it up, and then dressed herself in the ceremonial Xian armor. She thought she loocked quite fine.

Putting away the screen, she then turned to Dxacku. "So. What was worth risking our lives for? And furthermore why did you have a camp in my lower levels?"

"I followed another here.. a Spider, and when he made camp below I decided to follow - a safe distance away, of course. Ha! That was close, wasn't it? Talk about crazy." He patted his metal chest affectionately. "Oh, yes, my child, you're safe.."

He avoided Max's question.

Maxine walked over to the case, opening it to see what was inside. She didn't play games, and as the case was in HER realm and would have been destroyed were it not for her, she considered it hers.

Kleptomania wasn't quite the typical trait held by a heroine, but..

"No!" shouted Dxacku, grabbing Max's arm before she could open the crate. "No, no, no.. they're my travel goods, my mercantile stock, very private. Yes. Sorry, but I'm not comfortable with you.."

EDIT: RUSE ADVICE!

"Oh. You're a merchant? What do you sell? I've been looking into getting some Earthborn weaponry, or an Earthborn SUIT, or enchanted armor. With all the recent events in my brief life, I've not had the time to get money or anything.. and I'm in a bit of an odd mindset, so I apologize for not respecting your property." She said, interested and apologetic by turns.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:23, Tue 24 Nov 2009.

Dxacku suddenly smiled. All was forgiven.

"Oh, well, it's nothing - really - truth be told, if you're looking for Earthborn gear, I may be able to help, see.." he drifted off a little, smiling nervously. "I steal modern firearms for the discerning customer. That is, I sell modern firearms for the discerning victim. That is.."

He frowned.

"I may as well tell you. I'm a thief, and I stole this case from dissenting Earthborn rebels. I have an official trade permit, of course, but still - thievery, to some people, is still thievery, and.."

"I've stolen before, and paid heavily for it. What do you think the Earthborn rebels would have done with these weapons? Rebels tend to cause a lot of collateral damage.. you likely saved lives by somewhat disarming them. Now, I don't exactly have much money, but I really must go to Litheris or I will be killed. You are welcome to accompany me if you like."

With that, Maxillita opened a portal to Litheris and stepped through.

"I prefer to stay here. I know of Litheris."

Dxacku would wait behind, in the airy fields of Eulysia.

   From the vast firmament there was a form like that of a soaring angel, except this angel was grim faced and dressed in full battle gear.  Golden wings beat and then stilled as he found a suitable thermal to carry him to his people's main island center.  The wind against his face felt liberating, his muscles felt tense and unused.  The movement was alleviating to the ails of a long departure in godly stasis.  All was well, though.

   He spiraled through the air, smiling wide at the sensation of freedom, elation.  He entered a white puff of clouds, felt the gaseous white whisps caress his face.  It was like coming into an oasis in the middle of a desert.  The coolness that he felt on every pore of his body was refreshing.  He came through, exploded through the cloud, now wet with moisture, and tood a plummet toward the earthen island.  As he picked up speed the wind ripped at his hair, peeled it back.  It whistled in his ears.  To any other this would have been quite a distressing experience, but he was Armanthor, a divine being, and flight was second nature to him; battle was first nature.

   So as he plummeted through the air like a torpedo under the water, his wings pressed against his back, he watched the earth approach his vision.  It enlarged.  He moved his arms to test the resistance, just to do it.  The ground came closer, he saw fields and his winged people moving about.  Then, as he was about to smack the earth, he flipped in the air and opened his wings ever so subtly to break his momentum.  If only there were a deep body of water somewhere, he thought to himself as he stopped fifteen feet above the ground and landed softly upon the earth that his people called home.

   When he landed, he shook himself off, rolled his muscles, ran a hand through his hair.  He looked about casually, cast about to see if he saw Calbrey and opened his senses to see if he could feel any divinity in his realm that may need expunging.

   He went to one of his closest people and said, "I'm looking for Calbrey, does he still live? Is he around? "

Armanthor happened across one of his people, a warrior, who was obviously happy at the return of his Lord; the face of such a warrior was struck with uncertainty, however, when the name Calbrey was mentioned.

"Lord.. he hasn't yet returned from his errands at the 'Hall of the Sun'," said the man. "He has been gone for many weeks."

   Armanthor furrowed his shapely brows, looking somewhat perplexed at the notion.  "He went to the hall of the sun, you say? Well, that's interesting.  I wasn't aware that mortals could go to those godly places.  Thank you young warrior.  I appreciate your advice.  "

   But Armanthor was in no hurry, he leaned back and took the warrior in, and said with a fatherly type of authority; like a father that has just caught his child doing something silly.  He said with a grin and arched brow, "What are you doing out here all by your lonesome, soldier? What's your duty? "

   Armanthor did not say this in a reprimanding way, but rather relied on his general leader's mien to drive his point home; just incase the warrior was neglecting his duties.

"I stand watch, sir. On this spot two guests to Elysia came. Some of the upper brass believe them to be threats, and placed me to watch over this courtyard."

The man smiled. He enjoyed the conversation with his Lord.

   "I see and I am glad that my soldiers aren't neglecting their duty, as I have vague recollections of such insubordinations from a distant past.  Or maybe just something like a dream.  ", he said, his eyes becoming unfocused as he stared seemingly past the soldier, he snapped back to instantly and chuckled. "No matter, it matters very little now.  My main concern is whether or not you have come to any harm by these...visitors.  If so, then we will have to see about reconnaisance and possible counterstrike.  "

   He didn't have the appearence of being startled, or even unnerved about the matter.  In fact, he seemed quite at ease, and though he didn't welcome conflict, he was more than willing to deal out punishment to those that chose to make themselves his enemy.  He hoped that things would not come to that, for he was a master at tactics and arms, and knew that the punishment he could deal out to his foes would be great.  He did not desire blood to be spilt.

   He looked out past the landscape, seeing if, from this distance, he could spy any of his men or any of his peoples' buildings or movements, from where he was.  He also wanted to take note of any possible defensible positions.  As a battle tactician, it came second nature to him.  Looking for such advantageous positions just in case of a battle came to him as surely as breathing, or flying.  It was something that was bred into his godly essence, something that he could not help and could probably not repress for very long.  This took him all of several seconds, his eyes leaving that of the soldier's and sweeping the landscape behind him before returning his gaze to him once again afterward.

"I was not harmed at all. They came and then they left. That was all, Lord."

Armanthor saw the city - he was quite high up. It would be easily defended, especially from an army that could not fly. Tall towers, narrow bridges, easy outposts atop most of the buildings.. many of the places themselves were only accessible from above, as the doors below led only to a swift death. He saw much of his military patrolling the city. They had not grown dull in Calbrey's absence - nor in his, for that matter.

   Armanthor smiled, felt a sense of pride in his people as he surveyed their defenses.  Of course he should not have doubted their military prowess, he should have expected nothing less than an impregnable fortress of a city.  As he smiled the corners of his eyes crinkled up, and he reached over and patted the soldier on the shoulder, then moved his hand up so that he grasped the nape of his neck, in a fatherly sort of way.  He moved so that he was now standing at the warrior's side, and he shared in the soldier's view of the land.

   He removed his hand from the back of the soldiers neck and placed his hands behind his back and merely soaked in the beauty of his realm, for it had been a long time since he had dwelt here.  He sensed that it had been a very, very long time.  There were a few moments of nostalgia as he took in the scenery.  He let the wind sweep his golden locks, let the silence enfold him and swallow his being.  He just listened and let his realm, his home, the essence of his people sweep through him.  He closed his eyes, felt the realm with his mind, reached out with his five senses so that he could better swallow the feeling of his realm once again.  He felt the earth, every granite and mineral, every life source from the smallest insect to the largest mammal.  He let small tendrils of his feeling snake outward into the ground around him, took hold of the earth with his mind just to do it, to feel it.  He just stood there like that for a few moments as he soaked in his realm.  It's good to be back, good to stand beside my people once again, good to feel my land again.

   He finally responded, looked back to the soldier, realized that he had probably waited a while to speak again and hoped that the soldier would not be distracted by his silence.

  "Then all is well, and we can focus on other matters at hand.  Tell me, who was left in command after Calbrey's departure, and what is the state of things? ", he paused, thought, and said, "What is your name, soldier? "

"Everything seems to be running fine, m'Lord. Lord Calbrey is running the city in Calbrey's absence; he is another man from Earth, Lord, claiming inheritance to the title. He is, I believe, Calbrey's brother - and there are familiar similarities between their features - but he will not tell us a thing about our last Lord of Blades."

   Armanthor nodded, " Another lord Calbrey? That's.....interesting.  I'll have to see him, meet him.  Just a moment.  ", said Armanthor as he moved away from the soldier.  "This may take a moment.  Please, go about your duties as if I were not here, and when I'm done I'll have some more inquiries for you.  "

   With that he stepped forward and bowed his head.  He planted his feet firmly against the earth, and let his wings stay at rest.  He then brought his hands forward and in front of him.

Perhaps, Armanthor knew, that if he'd spent more energy focusing on magical studies it might be possible..

Or perhaps when he is stronger, theoelectromagnetically.

Regardless, while he could feel the Plane of Earth, just beyond his grasp, he could neither access nor manipulate it.

Armanthor relieved himself of his meditative stance and turned back to his soldier.

"Alright.  Would you mind showing me where I could find Lord Calbrey, just give me some directions and I'll get along just fine.  "

There were many things going through his head at the moment.  Like just what was going on with the senior Calbrey and why he was at the Conclave.  He also wanted to know what state his realm was in, he was curious, almost eager, to find out what the current happenings were in Eulysia.  He had many things he wanted to do, like find out just what was below the islands that he saw floating in the distance, he wanted to go to the actual ground level of his realm and see what awaited him there.  But he also looked toward the horizon, that broken horizon the floated above the lower one.  What was out there?

He had alot to do and he felt he had little time to do it.  Patience, he told himself, I must have patience like a good leader, a good commander.   All the while he had his gaze was upon that of his man, of that one warrior that was keeping watch in the area.  He wondered if there were any more around here to back him up if anything horrid over took.  He looked around, with his eyes rather than his head, to see if there was any back up around here for the soldier.

   Brave.  He could die out here; no one would know he was assaulted until it was too late.  Without back up, I couldn't be prouder.  , in his head, it was but a solemn whisper of a soldier that has seen too much of the world, as if there was a lot more in this reborn god than just the few moments that he'd been here.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:39, Fri 12 Feb 2010.

He was given directions to Lord Castavan Calbrey; Calbrey had taken up residence in the grandest palace the Eulysia had, reserved typically for the Lord of All, Armanthor the Highest. It was not hard to find - its globed towers dominated the horizon. As Armanthor got closer to the palace, he noticed that the soldiers grew thicker and thicker until, when he was at the gates of the place, there were twenty or thirty fighting men standing guard. They saluted him.

"Lord, you have returned," said one of the soldiers - a captain.

   As Armanthor soared to this grand palace and landed, he swept the horizon with his gaze and looked to those gathered around.  Why so many troops? Was it because they were on high alert, or was it something else? He furrowed his brows as he gazed at the surrounding men and the thick procession of military personel.  He landed and saluted the men, and looked to the captain sternly.  "Indeed I have...Captain, " Armanthor said, pausing briefly to assess the man's rank, " Why so many men? Was it because of the presence of other divinities here, or is it something else? "

   He noted that the new Calbrey had taken up residence in the grand building.  Egocentrism? He hoped that he was as humble and wise as the senior Calbrey had been.

"Lord Calbrey is a paranoid one, Lord, y'see," said one of the soldiers.

"Watch your mouth, soldier!" shouted another, apologizing to Armanthor. "You see, after.. the first Calbrey, Lord rest his soul, his brother began manifesting, uh, a certain degree of security. He believes the Tragedy of the Sun was directed at him and his family. Is this true, Lord?"

OOC: I didn't even realize I hadn't posted here.  I thought I was waiting on you. :P

Armanthor quirked his brown a bit, he said, "Tragedy of the Sun? Security? I don't understand this.  What is the tragedy of the sun? And what does this have to do with Calbrey and his family? "

"We are not .. sure," admitted the guard. "It's only been mentioned in passing by the Lord Calbrey, and he does not like us - pressing - him. As for the added security.. he fears incursion, Lord. Invasion. Perhaps it is justified, but conscription has almost doubled."

Armanthor looked over the faces of his people with an arched brow and, looked at the soldier and nodded.

"I will go and have a talk with him.  Do as you were doing before.  ", with that he started toward the new Calbrey, wondering just what as going on here.

Through the wide corridors and rooms carved of grand marble, Armanthor found the typically empty Throne Room to be occupied by a man who looked disturbingly like the Calbrey he knew. The Throne Room had been converted to a working bureaucrat's office, filled with paperwork and books on law and order - those common, Armanthor saw, to both Eulysia and the Earthborn Territories.

"Yes, what is it?" asked the man, nervously. "I thought I said that I wasn't to have any visitors.."

   Armanthor noted the list of accessories that colored the throne room and furrowed his brow at how much this man looked like Calbrey.  Why would he need books about the laws of both lands? Something was going on here, and Armanthor wanted to get to the bottom of it, but he might as well be pleasant first.  Get greetings out of the way, then he could talk business.

   "Visitors? I certainly hope that your time  isn't too strained by the mark of a mere god, such as myself.  I meant only to observe the one that has been wathcing after my people in my stead.  ", he said good-naturedly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes.

"Ah, yes, Armanthor," said Lord Calbrey, taking Armanthor's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I"m sorry for not meeting you early, but with the disappearance and my... late brother, I'm afraid I haven't had the time, what with the paperwork and everything. I hope that I've done a good enough job in your stead."