They came from varied places. The Sagorin were
nomads; The Siric arose from their latest homeworld, old by most calendars and
far from the gathering place. The mighty Eagles winged in from various roosts,
tailed by the nimble Falcons. The Centuar materialized within the gathering in
the blink of an eye. Finally, there were the delicate and beautiful Sylmer. A
gathering-call was felt within and could not be denied.
The Dome was a magical cathedral, with soaring
marble pillars reaching heavenward to commune with the stars, pure white with
silvery tracings, intermittently sparking, a reminder of the life within the
stone. It was warm to the touch, releasing the slightest electrical shock, a
pleasant sensation. Living rock- many would discount the notion. There were
fourteen pillars exactly spaced about the perimeter of the circular interior
and together they formed the sacred ogives. It was through one of these vaulted
arches that each group entered, each having a doorway. There were fourteen
magical doorways and six were employed in answer of summons.
Gathering of Rain
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