Closed Words for Mizas (Moderator Cinna/Reaper)

[Woath]

T2nd of Winter, 512 A.V. Woath strolled across the vine bridge that led into the Government Petal, his knuckles skirting the walking surface to steady his gait. He cast a beneficent glance toward the safety nets far below, knowing that if bad went to worse on this precarious crossing, and his considerable bulk was swept like a flower on the wind, those blessed structures would spare him from a most undignified demise. A few steps more on all fours, and his hind feet found solid purchase on the Government Petal proper, whereupon he rose to adopt a more bipedal stride. He was glad today. The fog and Djed Storm had been a terrible ordeal, but everyone in his family had miraculously been spared by a mixture of luck and the diligence of the hunters appointed to recover those Jamoura who were lost to the effects. They were homeless now, but with time and effort they could rebuild their place in this city. For Woath's part as a grown male, he was building his own home, intending to create his own home, the next step to advancing within the society and becoming his own alpha. The Jamoura's step quickened as he found his bearings, taking his feet to the Memorium, the place of central governance within the Spires. There he hoped to accomplish a number of things, not least among them was employment as a scribe, to record the thoughts and words of the wisest of Jamoura for posterity. He also hoped to find a mentor, that he could eventually be elevated to the esteemed position of Sage. When a young cub, Woath had dreamt of commanding a mighty temporal army and vast dominions. As he matured, his mind turned more toward an army of the mind. And if there was a place to find such a thing in Mizahar, it was here in the Spires, in the Memorium. Woath came at last to the Oblong, elliptical structure that served as the home to the Memorium. Here the greatest minds in Mizahar and wisest gathered to make decisions on the preservation and distribution of knowledge. His heart throbbed with pride of his heritage as he approached the entrance, and then entered. Once he found himself inside, he looked to whoever received him and smiled, speaking deeply and slowly, "I am Woath. I come to join your assembly as a scribe."