It was the smell of the place that bothered Galin the most, he decided, as he picked his way along a road cut through the rainforest.  Damp, decaying wood, trees so tall they could block out the sun, all of it was an abomination to a man used to the harsh mountains and windswept valleys of the North.  It was a harsh land, but a beautiful one, and its men grew hard as the hills where they toiled.  Galin was such a man, at least, that was how he saw it.  He had traveled to war, he had killed in the chaos of the Sarchu during the War, and he was now cast to the winds by chance.  It was more than enough to harden a man.

His hand never strayed far from the hilt of his long knife as he trudged, ready at an instant to defend himself from whatever creatures or men lurked in the shadows of the forest.  The confinement did not suit him and he reached to touch the amulet around his neck that bore the shield of his god to ward off the evil in the shadows.  He did not care for the gods of the rest of Revaliir, nor did many of the Northmen.  Instead, they followed their older god, Deantoir, a great warrior lord who formed the hills and valleys of the North and walked among them until he returned to his cloud hall to feast among his companions.  He did not care to meddle in the affairs of men, only watching them from realm beyond, amused and distant.  It was, Galin thought, a better way for a god to be.

Without warning, the road took a sharp turn and after he pushed through the undergrowth, he saw a towering white marble wall.  "Oh lovely, this isn't strange at all.  A giant wall in a hell forest."  Shaking his head at the absurdity of his position, he led his stolen mount through the underbrush behind him.  When he first entered the forest, Galin came across a man traveling alone and fell in with him.  The man was glad of the company and they traveled a day or two together before Galin realized what the strange, jumpy feeling he got when he looked at the man was all about.  While they sat around a small fire they had managed to light from the damp wood near the road, Galin finally pieced together what the man did.  He spoke of livestock and trading, and the cost of feeding and sheltering his charges, but somehow never mentioned fodder.  Galin had grown up a cattle drover and it had struck him as odd.  Then, that night, the man finally revealed that his charges were not sheep or cattle, but slaves, usually taken from the Bohari lands, and sold throughout the continent, some to nobles and landed men for labor and others to less reputable establishments to be used for coin.  So when the fire burned low, Galin feigned sleep until he knew his companion was snoring and then moved quietly through the small camp.  Taking one of the logs that had left to stoke the fire in the morning, he cracked the sleeping man over the head, rendering him senseless.  

A cattle drover in the North was more than a simple farmer; the life of the North was one of constant raiding between the clans.  It was as much a part of the culture as the Maker, and Galin had learned it well.  He moved quickly, trussing the man's legs and feet behind him with his own belt.  His coin purse was emptied into Galin's and his clothing and boots thrown into the fire.  As they began to burn, Galin unhobbled the slaver's horse and led it out onto the road, heading south once more.  Part of him wondered if the man died, savaged by the evils of the forest, but deep down, he did not really care.  In his eyes, the man had it coming.  And for him, that was enough.

So, stolen gear on his back and a stolen horse on his lead, he walked through the pillars a long, echoing antechamber.  It seemed well tended and the fires danced and crackled merrily in their braziers.  He wrapped the horse's lead around one such brazier outside the hall itself and patted it fondly while he pulled his newly acquired gear from its back.  Slipping the round shield over his arm and the man's long sword into his belt, he moved through the garden, waiting to see someone, anyone.  A place that was so well cultivated could not exist without folk, he thought, but none seemed readily apparent.  Then, without warning, a woman, swathed in gaudily colored silk appeared from an alcove, welcoming him in a strangely accented voice.  

"Welcoming me where?  I haven't a damned idea where I am!"

The woman smiled patiently and waved him forward, offering him a seat to rest.  "You are at the temple of the Goddess Who Burns and Consumes all.  All herein serve her.  Sit, food will be brought." 

Galin peered at her suspiciously but took her at her word.  "Thank you," he muttered, but his hand pressed against the amulet at his throat at the mention of the goddess.  At that stage, there was little else he could do.  The Maker and thrust him here and it was time to amuse him.  So he sat, waiting, in the temple of a foreign god, in a foreign land, protected stolen arms.  And somehow, he thought, things were about to get even stranger.

Eyes remained closed to the outside world as whispered reports were brought to the Captain’s ear.  No orders were given in regards to how to handle the new occurrence.  There was a traveler making his way towards the Oasis.  This traveler was different from the norm.  ”Follow from a distance.  See his behavioral patterns."  The Temple of the Burning Lady was not the only territory monitored by her guard, but also the surrounding rainforest.  What arose suspicion was the attacking of a sleeping man and taking his property.  No action was taken by the Lady’s guard, but report was sent back to her Captain.
 
Within the white walls, Damon stood silently.  If he did make his way to the Oasis, he would have to make a decision whether he would be a threat to the relatively quiet temple.  Green leather armor clad the Captain from head to toe.  Leather armor gloves clenched at the bow as his mind raced to different possibilities of how to handle the situation.  Few who came to see Rhylana came with the ability to stand a threat, even so, Damon rarely showed any sort of concern for it since his systems were tried and true.  His men and women were trained well for any kind of threat…little or large.  What threw him off was the report of a man attacking another while sleeping as well as sharing the same campfire.  True, Rhylana would potentially tell him later he was overreacting again; Damon was fine with it.  Her safety was his number one priority.
 
From his eyes in the forest, the traveler was frustrated and almost within the walls.  The greeting servants looked cautiously over at Damon, but he merely smiled at them calmly.  ”Just out here to stretch my legs, nothing more.  Enjoy your visitor and do the Lady proud.”  Blue eye winked in reassurance to the honey-skinned maid.  A soft laugh was given in response, and she went about her work.
 
Per usual, the maiden brought the guest to the main courtyard to wait for the goddess if she were so inclined to meet with him.  There was a hesitance about the newcomer that made Damon frown for a moment.  Maybe there was more to this than just a destructive thief. 
 

After a few moments of standing among the trees Damon stepped out of the shadows with bow still in hand.  Pulling back his hood, the Captain nodded in greeting to the man.  ”Welcome to the Oasis.  I am Damon, Captain for her ladyship’s guard.  What is your name, and what brings you to my Mistress’s temple?”  Eyes watched carefully for any quick movements that would indicate threat or hostility.  So far, so good.

"Oasis, eh?  Interesting name for it, this giant of a place."  Galin looked at the tall man ahead of him and smiled.  "Galin from, well, what matters is I'm from north of here,  Wouldn't have heard of the place these days.  Might remember me though, if a green-dressed dandy like yourself was in the War with the Godslayer."  Galin extended his hand and nodded his head.  "Now, you're asking me what business I've got here, but I haven't a single idea where this is.  The forest is a blight on the world and I've been wandering it aimless half the time, and the other, I nearly got myself shipped to the south in irons to be the Maker knows what for some rich bugger down that way."

Galin stepped back a moment, looking over the guard captain.  He reckoned, if push came to shove, he would be able to handle the man, but he would not make it out of the walls alive.  One man against the entire place?  Madness.  Still, he was not about to put his tail between his legs and whine like a newborn puppy.  Instead, he started to walk around the courtyard, admiring the stonework and silks.  It was a strange sight for a man from his part of the continent, where even the great halls of the most powerful chiefs were still half timber and roofed with thatch.  They stank of stale ale and the smoke of the central hearths made them smoky and nearly unbearable.  This place, with his intricate stonework and beautiful design, was something Galin could not have imagined in his lifetime had he not seen it with his own two eyes.

"And Damon, I don't have a single idea who the lady of the house is.  I am lost, tired, and frankly at the end of my rope.  So would you mind telling me where in the damned world I am, who this lady is, and what it would cost to get a decent meal in this place, eh?  I don't mean to be brusque, you see, but I haven't eaten in so long my stomach thinks my throat's been cut.  So, cap'n, what do you say?"  Galin turned back to the man, his hands spread wide to show he meant no harm.  He looked directly at the green-clad archer with an unwavering gaze, still not willing to be a supplicant and look aside, because a man had pride, after all.  And he wondered, abstractly, how quickly the man could draw and loose an arrow.  In case it came to that.

The visitor was certainly not what Damon had expected, and if it weren't for the previous reports he was sure that he would have had a different first impression.  He returned the handshake.  Brow lifted as the Northerner spoke of himself and of the Godslayer war.  Damon had been there, but had not taken part.  Being as old as he was wars were a constant cycle.  Getting involved never did him any good, unless he was getting paid.  In that particular war he had no patron to interest his time or skills.  "The forest is hardly a blight upon the earth, but I guess everyone has their own opinions on the matter.  It is a hazard if you get lost easily in this sort of environment."  Damon frowned, but it quickly disappeared at the mention of a slaver. "If what you say is true about the irons, you dealt with the situation.  Was there a mention of a further workings in this area?"  The Captain would have to send out his rangers further to see if anyone was trying to use the area as their hunting grounds for slaves.

The phoenix slowed slowly to help contain his annoyance at the look over from Galin.  As Rhylana's guard, he had to deal with many of the visitors.  Many of them thought little of him when it came to his physique, but they knew nothing of his true potential.  Damon remained fixed in his place with his bow clenched tightly in his hand.  He watched as the northerner walked about the courtyard to take in the atmosphere.  It was certainly a sight to take in with the details that were put in by the goddess.  

A slight smile came to his stubble face as he listened to Galin's mouth wanderings.  This one certainly had a lot to say when he wanted to.  His grip loosened on his bow as he made a hand motion with his free hand.  With that, maids came forth with the refreshments they had previously prepared.  One of the tables were filled with drinks and food that hopefully would satisfy the newcomers appetite.  Damon nodded towards the set up for Galin to partake.  "Hopefully this will sate your hunger.  If Lady Rhylana sees fit, she may give you a temporary lodging to rest before you move on.  The goddess is who burns and consumes all.  So eat your fill and drink your thirst satisfied."  

Rhylana had been watching the jungle carefully through her scrying glass, watching this wanderer and the companion he had brought with him. They were too close to the grounds, too close to her son and those that she held dear. While the goddess was not innately cruel, she looked to the other liger beside her and sighed “Looks like we have a guest Shivara,” she said as she rose from her scrying table. Rhylana was a creature of patience and elegance and it was something that she prided herself upon. Raven hair flowed to her hips, a simple silver circlet adorning her brow as she dressed in a simple black velvet gown with red lace trim. Ready for the world, she tapped her beloved liger and walked down the expansive steps to the courtyard. So, the man had found his way here, a murderer, a ruffian and horse thief, yet here he stood being welcomed by her captain?

“Captain Naur,” she said in a hiss upon the wind, her words going to his ears directly as she weighed this miscreant, powers seeking him out, tasting him as she stepped towards the pair. “I am not in the mood to allow murderers within the walls of my compound, Damon. Let alone to spend the night, gods know what he would do to my child, Alairia, or any innocent here.” She chided, red lips showing her delicate fangs. She crossed her arms under her bust and looked the invader over to see his true measure of threat. “Welcome to the Ivory Court, this courtyard is my oasis. I am Lady Rhylana Knight, The goddess who burns and consumes all. Keeper of fallen souls, and devourer of the slain.” There was a lilt to her voice, bi-coloured eyes glittering as she decided just what the man could be used for.

“Tell me, how you found my home, and mayhaps you shall be spoiled as opposed to devoured in your entirety.” She made a point of showing fangs once more as if to punctuate her point. golden shoots of power showing now and again beneath her flesh, giving her a near glowing effect. She thought, looking to Damon with a seriousness and weight that was near tangible. He had better have had a damnable good reason for allowing this man to continue to draw breath. “And to answer your question, stranger, yes- he could draw and shoot before you managed to harm him. For you see, he is simply one hell of a Captain.”

"You southrons are a strange bunch," Galin conceded to the captain.  "But give me a mountain glen or a whipping sea and my folks are happy as the day is long.  This sort of thing, a forest for days with drenching air and dappled sun?  It's one bloody step from driving me mad."  He shrugged, in his head imagining a green valley surrounded by the harsh, windswept mountains that he called home.  Only, he could not return there, not for a time.  The chief would not let him through his lands alive and would have sent men with silver and promises of more to every bandit, outlaw, and unsavory sort from the Highlands to Adeluna in exchange for Galin's head. 

"Your man the slaver, he was carrying coin, so I figure he was looking to buy when he made it south.  Maybe those tribal sorts near Vilpamola, the ones in the hills the slavers tend to take could have been the plan.  Me, I was more of a surprise for him, add me to his profits without having to pay a bent copper.  So I'm not sure if there's others working these parts, but I'd be careful."   The captain's gestrure summoned maids with food and at that moment, Galin could not have cared if the goddess was the "one who poisoned all foods," because he was famished.  "Thanks, cap'n," Galin said, tucking into the food with vigor, so much so that he barely noticed the woman who came into the area after.

"Murderer?  Ach, I'm a killer, sure, but never murder exactly," Galin said, standing up and straightening his shoulders.  "Killed a fair few in the Valley during the war and a drunken bugger that came at me with a knife up North, and him, he's the reason I'm here.  Nephew of one of the chieftains in the valleys, and he burned by home and stole my herds, and has a price on my head.  So I wouldn't exactly say murderer, would you?"  He inclined his head politely as she listed off her titles, fighting back an urge to scoff at the madness of the southern folk.  "Well Lady Knight," he said, amused with how incongruous the title and surname sounded together, "I'm Galin from Ochiern, in the North, former soldier of the Conclave who killed Aelric of Ejgora in the Sarchu."  His introduction, given in the ritualized way of the North, was impressive enough by the understanding of his people.  To have killed a warrior who had trained in the Academy in the farthest duchy was an accomplishment few men could boast, and in the North, where reputation meant all, it was a point of pride for the young warrior.

"And I found your home when I was heading through this blighted forest and had to leave a slaver trussed like a hog rather than get sold down as a slave myself.  So I take a break from the path, so he won't find me as easily, and here I am."  And he smirked at her suggestion, just for a moment, then let it drop.  "If you say so Lady, it's your hall.  Speaking of, whereabouts exactly are we, in relation to Adeluna?"

The only response that Damon could come up with for the newcomer was a small laugh.  Heat was not an issue for him since he was born from the Flame.  He stood calmly in the courtyard as the guest took to the refreshments.  The Captain’s visage remained neutral, but his senses were on high alert.  He could feel his soldiers take up their positions around the temple.  Each were trained in stealth and quick resolve.  Damon doubted that Galin had the ability to get passed him, but even if he did, there was no possibility for him to get passed the small army that now hid among the courtyard. 
 
A hard sigh released from his mouth at the prospect of slavers in the area.  This land was new to the goddess and the phoenix, so they had worked on developing the temple and home.  Now it was time to concern themselves with the outside world; it was necessary.  “I appreciate the information.  I will look in to it at a later time,” he responded. 
 
Blue gaze turned from the feasting man to the goddess.  Damon straightened his already straight posture in response to her presence.  “Ma’am.”  The phoenix did to say a word until she had completed admonishing him for the allowance of entry.  He had known there was the possibility of her reaction as it were, but he had previous instructions.  “My lady, I have made sure of the security; he is of no threat.  I did not want to turn a possible follower or someone importance to you before getting answers.  We are not to attack first, but to study unless you instruct otherwise, my lady.  If you so wish, I can deal with him now.”  Head bowed, but never enough where he could not see Galin.
 

Rhylana had her severe beliefs, and that laid with the protection of her family.  Steps were taken back with bow still firmly grasped in hand.  It was now her time to decide what would happen from then on.  

Rhylana had been born a noble, yes, but she had grown up as less than what she was. She had traveled the world and committed her fair share of crimes. Standing now before this deviant was nothing to shirk from, and as he sassed her, in her own temple no less, one raven eyebrow rose. “Galin,” she said, tasting his name as if it were candy to her tongue, eyes set as she looked to him. She weighed on Damon’s words and she cocked her head, taking into account the rudeness of the blasphemous little prat before her. “Damon, scout the woods for those that may have intended this miscreant harm. Look for and more slavers or people who may be after our more…exotic friends.” Of course she meant those that resided here that were less than normal, her phoenix’s, her tigers.

Rhylana sat down next to this person, a chair appearing to beneath her as she sat. The gown swirling easily about her legs. “You come here, starved, fatigued, half dead by all accounts. Now, your tongue cuts words you can hardly back up. Petulance hardly becomes you, standing here in my temple surrounded by swords, eyes darting around as if you expect a sword to the back. This is not the northlands, Galin, this is the lands of Gods and magic and a world that can consume you and never think twice. I have tigers and lions that regularly eat intruders, yet you do not strike me as something of a  threat.”

She summoned a cup of tea, the table filled with food, summoned by the goddess as opposed to brought in by the servant. Rhylana rest her head on her chin and thought, “We are four days ride from Adeluna, roughly, depending on the mouth and the motivation of the rider.” There was nothing more to it, she was not sure where this man was trying to get to, but he seemed to be motivated enough. “You are welcome to take refugee here if you need, any transgression will be met with extreme prejudice and your demise, though I doubt you are motivated that way, and should anyone be seeking you, they would not find you within these ivory walls.” Refuge for those that would murder, that was going to be her temple.

She thought for a time, a guard posted outside the private halls would not be too much. “Tell me, outside of escaping my ‘blighted jungle’ what is it you need. Food, a well watered horse, sleep?” She asked gently, still dubious, still calculating this mans motives.