Spiritual Unease

He arrived in Myth Drannor, and had his clothing not been so blatantly him, those who knew Arjay might not have recognized him. Gone was the lively, carefree elf whose presence used to grace Myth Drannor's taverns and fires. Now he just seemed to be an empty shell of a man, guided by habit more than sight. His hollow gaze barely seemed to see those around him as he made his way through the city, finally coming to the temple of the Seldarine.

He initiates conversation with neither the fellow faithful nor the priests. He simply seats himself in front of the altar of Hanali, an overly ornate sword laid at the statue's feet, and gazes at it. There's something of a hopeless desperation in his gaze, like he's trying to find some insight, some sort of forgotten, essential truth, that he's forgotten.

From the length of his silent vigil, though, this truth seems to be content in eluding him.