Falling Sands Leave no Trace

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   A year passed. Some things changed, others remained the same, as they often
do. Tibalt saw no more of the monster in the depths above, while Laren learned
to climb. They saw little of Zera, for she left to undertake her foot in the
area after a month of waiting. She still came back every month or so, and she
regaled them with tales of her adventures patrolling the wilderness. All
animosity between them seemed to evaporate with distance, and the boys were
relieved.

   She had been patrolling the forest near Garen, for there was a rising threat
in the area that had called all the resident rangers to combat. The dead walked
alongside dark creatures of the forest, and while she kept far away from the
conflict she never-the-less had plenty of tales to tell. She helped with
cleaning the battle sites, patrolling the frontier, and hunting game for her
fellow rangers.

   But all too soon, the year was finished. The three made their separate ways
back to the adventurers guild in Sorenthal, and there they met.

   "So, do you know what you're doing for your foot? Probably more of what I
did, if I had to guess. It's not too bad, you get used to the jerky and nuts.
And you can see a lot of forest. I guess I never realized how much of it there
was! Although it can sorta feel similar after a while, I mean a tree is just a
tree after all. But then you get an opening or a clearing on a hilltop and you
can see so far! Endless trees, as far as the eye can see... Well, there's
mountains in the distance of course, but you know what I mean."

   Up and down she went, always something more to tell them. Her animation was
vivid and she barely left any room for either of them to interject.

   "I'm sorry you were so lonely, Zera." Laren said. She was taken aback, and
looked at him for a moment before responding. "How did you know? Oh gods it was
SO BORING" They laughed together.

   They were walking down the streets of Sorenthal looking for a place to spend
their hard earned coin. Upon their return they were gifted with an entire years
salary, and like most adventurous youths they had no reservations on spending it
as fast as possible. Better to be prepared, they thought. The long hours the
boys had spent had tempered them, as the trial of the hand is meant to do - they
felt like they could act together as one well oiled machine, while the foot is
meant to inspire them to reach farther and go beyond what was set before them.
Zera took to the newfound ambition well, and she guided them to a magic shop 
that had been recommended by a fighter from the guild.

   Opening the door to Aldi Prelat's shop, a soft musical chime rung out from
some enchantment placed on the door - why bother with a bell when magic will
do? Inside, the rows of shelves stocked to the brim with brightly colored items
seemed to call to them, and their eyes seemed to be drawn to the same sets of
items as they scanned the room. As one, they gazed upon first the brilliant
yellow orb that hung from the ceiling and slowly rotated as they watched, then
to the spiraling wisps that danced within an oversized hourglass. As they
watched, the shimmering blue and purple outline of an elf walked across the
ceiling and disappeared through a wall. Everywhere there was motion, and they
felt in awe.

   Aldi stepped down the stairs to meet them, and she guided them through the
shop as she would any other patron. She made no comment on their age, though
she must have known most of what she presented was beyond their worth.
Something about them seemed thicker than most people, and she could feel their
synchronicity when they asked her questions or reached out to touch some object
in her hand.

   "You'll notice that all of my items are red, white, yellow, or blue. Do you
know why that is?"

   None of them knew, but Tibalt could guess. "It has to do with the types of
gems you're using to make them, right? I'm guessing red for fire, blue for
water, and..." She finished for him: "white for air, yellow for earth. I'm an
elemental enchanter, meaning I use all four elements. The other four options
are astral, nature, and death magic. Would you like to see?" She quickly tried
to cover her mistake by leading them to the back room where she had been part-
way through a ritual as they arrived. Better to distract them than discuss
uncomfortable truths.

   She was in the process of forging a dancing blade of water. The process
began by crushing five water gems and combining them with pure glass beads.
Then, she poured the mixture into a mold shaped like the blade, and covered it
in molten bismuth. The blade was mostly complete, aside from resting in frigid
waters for a day and a half, but she still had to fashion a handle. Luckily she
knew a blacksmith who had provided a steady supply in return for enchanted
hammers and bellows. She drew in the air a sigil of binding, a rune of sorrow,
and an icon of melody. Gathering the three symbols in her mind and affixing
them at three points along the guard, she willed them into existence and let
the mana flow through her, infusing the object with her will and life force.

   And with that, the blade was finished. A rather simple ritual, but this
process had been honed over countless centuries by wizards far grander than her
- she was simply the most recent to have read about it in a book. The science
of magic was an ever expanding field, and she drew great pleasure from
contributing to it when she could.

   With the demonstration complete, the adventurers turned back to the task of
deciding which artifacts they planned on entrusting their lives to. A years
work for a novice adventurer was more than the salary of most middle-class
members of society, but the price of magical goods were even spendier. Tibalt
elected for a crystal dove, equal parts transparent white and see-through
yellow. When the command word was spoken, it would animate and come to life -
circling above him, and if need be, diving to earth and smashing his enemies.

   "Where do you get your magical gems? How are they made?" Tibalt questioned
the scurri. She replied quickly enough, as if her response was pre-written:
"The gems I use are sourced from a myriad of locations, depending on the type
and quality. For the most part lesser quality gems are used and then refined
into a pure form - this process can take many months to complete. When the
adventurers guild has cleared a nearby dungeon or some perilous monster has
been defeated, often there'll be an influx of gemstones onto the local market.
During those periods I'm able to create an array of items that would otherwise
be too expensive to create - the primary limitor is not gold, as in most
industries, but rather time and materials."

   Zera chose a notebook that would write back whenever written in. "The
loneliness always felt darker than anything else. Some days I'd give anything
for a friend."

   Laren was perplexed. His friends chose mostly items that appealed to their
vanity. Luxuries. He was at a loss for what to purchase for himself, for he
could not predict what he would come to need. _No plan survives contact with
the enemy,_ he thought. So why bother planning? Maybe the others had come to a
similar conclusion, and perhaps he was just yearning for some sense of safety.
Feeling his hesitation, Aldi began trying to sell him one trinket or another,
always searching for some glint in his eye or inclination of his head that
would indicate his preference. But no such signal was forthcoming.

   In the end he chose a dagger. The swords were too expensive, but an earth
dagger, being the cheapest of the materials, seemed to be the most versatile.
How many times would he need a self-cleaning pair of glasses? What purpose
could he find in a circlet that could project the wearer's will into an
illusion of a dancing gnome? Such trivialities seemed useless to him, but a
good solid cutting implement that never needed to be sharpened was priceless.

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   Anytime new magic items were procured the entire guild fawned over them. At
least, that's how it felt - Laren felt less self conscious of his choice as the
dwarves and fighters marvelled over how his new dagger reflected the light. They
took turns trying to dull it's edge, to no avail - one left a solid gash in the
stone of the guild's basement, jamming it's point straight into the cold blocks
- But still it was sharp as ever.

   Tibalt's dove was of particular interest to the archers and wizards - they
all agreed it'd be useful to guard his back and keep his foes at a distance. A
magical whorl of glass and bottled lightning was frightening and could repel an
enemy with low morale, like a goblin or brigand. _Better to keep his eyes on his
main foe, and away from his flanks_ Laren thought. _Ideally, that's where I'd
be._

   Zera was feeling a little vulnerable, for her device could not be used in
combat - but no sooner than she had expressed her doubts than a profusion of
adventurers turned to console her - the darkest terrors existed within the mind,
they assured her, and "any solace in a withering storm is precious to bear, and
often the will fails before the body. Keep your journal, and learn it's
character. It could be a friend when you need it most." said an older matron who
had taken the Mouth. They sat around their bunks and braided each  other's hair,
discussing their present fortunes and future uncertainties.

   Zera was due to take her Mind. Tibalt and Laren's Foot was to follow and be
her guardians while she found a cause to set herself against. The Hand teaches
you to act, the Foot gives you the freedom and ambition to explore, while the
mind gives you clarity and focuses your intentions toward a worthwhile goal.
Should the adventurer-to-be prefer, they may take the Mouth and become an
attendant of the guild - those who administer it's processes and work as
diplomats, chancellors, and charitable consultants. They choose to dedicate
themselves to a lifetime in the service of others, and in return the guild
grants them training and funding to pursue their benevolent ideations.

   The Mind, however, was a different burden to bear. Those who chose to
undertake it would forever be tasked with the unceasing pursuit of gold, glory,
and great peril. These were the true adventurers, who delved into the darkest
pits of the earth to pry the treasures of forgotten civilizations from the claws
of the terrible horde below. Carting it back to the city brought power and
wealth, for coin and gems were cherished above all else - even human life.

   _Human, and whoever else could see the benefit in a lawful realm_ thought
Laren, as he calmly worked on his partners braid. They sat one behind the other,
in a vast chain that snaked through the bunkrooms. His own hair was fairly
short, and his braid was finished quickly, so before long he removed himself
from the chain and let the person behind him take over. Time fell quickly, and
the chain grew so short that people had to stand up and walk over to continue.

   Not the most efficient approach, but it was tradition to groom before a
storm. And a storm was coming, for the King had grown tired of the disruption to
the flow of caravans in the area. He'd assigned a contingent of The Grand Army
to help quell the threat posed by the nearby dryad, as she'd grown powerful in
the year since her first appearance. The adventurer's guild too had grown
resentful of the continual loss of their members - send too many, and they'd
never see a single foe. Send too few, and they'd never return. Send just
enough... And they'd return with banefire in their eyes and without a trace of
the life that once held their bonds of brotherhood fast.

   None were eager to join the ranks of the dead. Fewer still thought to flee.

   The adventurers, having fought and adapted to combat with them for so long,
were to be assigned as consultants who would prepare the army for combat. When
the fighting broke out, they'd lead the charge as pillars of the light of law.
Once the threat was vanquished, by steel and by blood, the demand for
adventurers would be lessened in the area as the chaotic forces regrouped. There
was no true victory, for the winding corridors of ancient tombs and the vast
chasms of spiralling depths reached down further than any man had ever seen -
and the deeper you went, the more dangerous it became.

   Luckily, the levels remained consistent, as if the proximity to the planet's
core magnified the power of the evil forces twisting through it's crust. The
guild had taken to labelling them as "levels" - each staircase downward brought
new challenges, and if you could face those perils and return alive (with
treasure to share) you'd be granted a higher rank. Once Zera was finished with
her Mind, she'd earn her first level - meaning she was authorized to delve into
the depths for the first time.

   But she had yet to begin. With such a grand trial set before them
collectively, there was no great urgency in assigning her mission. They were to
be assigned to the camp followers, who followed behind the army and kept the
logistics organized. As representatives of the adventurer's guild, they "must be
present and aware of any potential dangers" that may attack the backline
infrastructure of the fighting force, as Patricia Adleven had informed them
during the debriefing of their respective trials. She had seemed relieved that
they had returned alive, but also eager to get them out of her office. Somehow,
with all the work set before her, she found a way to remember their faces, and
Tibalt appreciated that.

   The night grew long, and the room grew quiet as each of them steeled
themselves for the arrival and their respective duties the new day would bring.

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