The night was light with the shining moon overhead. Archon traveled largely in the shade, keeping his dark coat more concealed as he padded across the stark white snow. He was not in hiding- it was simply a precaution. This type of place was said to garner the words of spirits. If that were true, could Archon hear God from this pool?

As Archon approached the ring of rocks, he couldn't help but to be taken aback by the soft glow of the waters. Indeed, this place might hold some mystical properties. Archon traveled among the rocks, taking notes of their engravings. What could they mean? Were they images? Did they represent something? They seemed to be deliberate. If only Archon could understand them.

After circling, Archon stood at one end. He bowed his head and first offered his thanks to God. He tried to go into great depth about his gratitude for the success in the Abaven pack. He credited it all to God's work through Malleus. His heath and well-being, the opportunity in Abaven, even the breath in his lungs was due to the life God had given them. Through him, they too could be powerful like God. Archon was thankful, but he sought guidance. He sought knowledge.

He pleaded, please let him become a tool for God to use. Let him be powerful an steadfast in his devotion like Malleus with the courage and resourcefulness of Ashiel. Let him make them- and most importantly, The Fallen God- proud.

Casanova was on a rare trip away from the island. After much begging he'd convinced Atlas to take him inland for a stretch. The two had parted ways for a bit and so, on his own, Casanova had decided to see what kind of business he could drum up. The shrine had piqued his interest immediately so he'd holed up in a nearby tree to wait for a passerby. With little to do, time had passed slowly. Eventually he'd caught a sleeping sparrow to snack on and was in the middle of plucking it when Archon arrived. The gigantic wolf had approached quietly. So quietly, in fact, that Casanova hadn't heard him coming. Upon seeing Archon across the shrine, he'd scrambled down the tree in a flurry of feathers and crept over to the nearest rock. There he paused to clean himself up. Once presentable Casanova skittered up the symbol-laced backside of the rock. He perched at the top like a chubby little gargoyle; his back straight and his tail wrapped snugly around his paws. The little huckster raked a keen eye across the wolf. He was a big, strong looking fellow. Didn't appear to have missed many meals. The self-assured sort, if Casanova had his guess. And yet this big, strapping brute stood there with his head down, cowed by some kind of deity. Casanova loved him already. "When you speak," he called softly, "does anyone ever answer?"

A voice temporarily entered Archon's prayers. He flicked his ears in a form of acknowledgement as he finished speaking to his god. Although it may be tempting, God came first and Archon was not about to abandon his conversation with God to acknowledge some mortal. He would go on to bring his prayer to completion before switching to converse with the other.

"Sometimes, although not always in spoken word," Archon finally answered, his voice rumbling quietly.

After a moment, Archon looked up slowly, an almost sleepy expression on his face. The voice before him was not another wolf, but a small, red creature. Perhaps it was some sort of deformed fox, or a type of creature that belonged only to these lands. Archon's ears flicked, his interest piqued.

But first, the creature had asked him about The Fallen God.

"Are you interested in the words of God?" Archon asked.

The seconds ticked by slowly as he waited for a reply. Others might have been annoyed by this, but with each passing second Casanova's excitement grew. He'd make a good choice picking this guy. The wolf's devotion to whoever - or whatever - he was praying to was very clear. Hopefully he could use that to his advantage. Finally the big guy replied. Casanova didn't know who this fellow's god was, but that was alright. He'd wing it. "Indeed I am," he said with a soft smile. "In fact, that's why I'm here." His seemingly fervent gaze drifted heavenward for a moment. After a brief contemplative pause his gaze returned to Archon. "I find that my powers are stronger in places like this. Something about these," he patted one of the stone symbols, "Seems to make it easier to talk to the spirits."

The little creature answered that he was here specifically to hear the words of God. Archon nodded slowly. It seemed God had led a wanderer to him today. Although this creature was no wolf, it would be an interesting endeavor.

the creature went on to say that his powers were stronger in places like this, attributing the rocks to the ability to communicate to spirits. Although Archon doubted that a lowly creature such as this could really speak to spirits, his words held some truth.

"Indeed, these places seem to be a portal to existences higher than ourselves. If God chooses this such spot, I may build upon it to make it a righteous and holy place which garners his mighty greatness."

Archon looked around, trying to imagine it. The place had smooth stones and a good structure for the beginnings of the type of place for worship.

"He asks us to conquer and to make his name known. I can only imagine having a place where we can host such meetings. With this, we can conquer more than just land, but minds and hearts alike."

Archon looked back to the creature.

"Tell me, what do these spirits say to you?" he asked speculatively.