Times have changed, Ioder no longer the man he was during his rein in the Hierarchy was now a free soul. With the wind at his back the Seraphim and his faithful crew began traveling the countryside of the Isle Corone. He and his men only worked toward one outcome, bolster their alliances, gather troops, and overall growth within their nation without boards. Traveling in small groups under a new banner, The Monarchy, and bearing patches on their shoulders to show it. Though true the stories of old remarking the former Monarchies have been lost from recent history; the aristocracies of The White and The Dark have changed and shaped the world a number of times over. It was a nation that superseded boarders and boundaries, one whose rule was noble and happily loved by their masses.
His travels have changed the Seraphim, he was no longer the happy man he was and his grip on reality seems to leave him often. He can feel it every time as his mind is lost to the great power of The Void. Almost like a black out at times his laps of control often leads to disaster. Now he chooses to work alone, without anyone he cares about tagging along. It puts his mind at ease knowing that he couldn’t hurt the ones he loves.
This now brings us to the quant little town of Bleak Rock just south of the White Monarchy’s castle. Nestled in the southeastern seaboard Bleak Rock was the home to nearly five hundred men, woman, children, elves, and the of hand orc or two. A hub of activity centralized around the arts of this wonderful island nation. In the center of the town stood the city hall where aristocrats operate their day to day business and the even larger theater, where the real business is done. It was quite an honor to be allowed to perform in this famous venue.
Ioder found himself here on a whim, the notion that music seemed to sooth his wayward soul. Nowadays he didn’t where the façade of faces he did before. When he was himself, truly himself, he appeared to be a middle aged man for the time. About twenty eight years old with medium length dirty blond hair. His eyes were a solemn brown color and he had a well-trimmed but thick beard, wings non-existant. As he strolled through the bustling streets he could see and hear nothing but utter brilliance all around him. There were musicians playing and street performers dancing away in this colorful and vibrant port town. Small businesses and eateries lined each side of the street tattered in flies of all shapes and sizes.
“Excuse me sir,” a young frail voice said tugging at Ioder’s coat tails. This sent a jolt though his system as he turned to see as small child. Ioder let out a low growl eyeing the boy. His arms were stuffed with stacks of parchment with many more stowed in a sack hanging at his waist. He raised up a hand offering him one before running off to the next person he could.
The parchment was advertisement for a small band gathering at the end of the north dock at sunset guaranteeing a grand time to any who attend. Ioder studied it for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it on the ground. Fat chance he thought to himself before turning face and continuing toward the town center. He wasn’t one for a small time group; he wanted to know who the main act was. He needed to find some way to calm him nerves, being an agent of The Void he was at constant war with the Other. While calm he was in perfect control of himself but otherwise his actions were not his own.
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