Tiphereth stared at Jin with utter fascination, as such passion was so rare among his kind. The feelings that raged within her, were to his eyes like a beautiful rainbow; a spectrum of unlocked thoughts and desires that his kind were able to read as one would peruse a library. Within her mind was torment and pain but then he felt something else... a brother. A brother evil and foul; a brother she had sworn to kill. Her task and much more floated upon the turbulent waters of her mind but as she spoke with Lac, they once more sunk, deep into the dark fathoms, weighted down by the heavy words of the Half Elfin ranger.

Upon her return, drawn into her dark cowl, Jin was silent. As she passed by the stolid Beldegir, the Dwarf stood with his burly arms folded across his wide chest, his eyes penetrating the shadows that hid the Drow's features. He huffed, and turned away but Tiphereth passed no judgement and if he had an opinion, he himself was not even sure what it might be. He was only aware that they had lost a member of their group, a man he barely knew, nor would he ever learn any more of him.

"Passing from one world to the next is a time for both mourning and celebration where I am from." Tiphereth announced in his deep gentle voice, then he glanced to Jin, "We all express ourselves differently, let us not be too hasty to pass judgement on another save we bear the sight to see into the very essence of their being."

He then put away his flute, picked up his satchel and prepared to follow the ranger into Azanulbizar. He stayed at the back of the group, with Brianna and casually mentioned that through her thoughts he had seen the home of her people. "It is a beautiful land." He said, his strange eyes like blazing lilacs in the sunlight. "I would like to see it some day, with my own eyes. The Rohirrim seem an interesting people and so like a stock that dwell in the steppes of my own world, although you probably do not share such a fondness for their culture. I apologize in advance for any lack of sympathy I may offer, for I am a collector of tales and songs and so often do I dismiss the hardships that inspire them."

As the party enters the plain and wind begins to blow from the mountains behind them, soft at first then gains strength before ceasing suddenly. If anyone were to look back they would see a hooded man standing where mere seconds ago there was noone. He seemed to watch them for a moment then started towards the group slowly. As he gets closer they will notice his pale features and thin frame. He appears as if he were ready for Death to come take him at any moment.

As Lac moved out across the plains, ahead of the others, he had taken no joy in the harsh words he had said to Ssinjin, but the words had needed to be said. The path they were on was as the edge of a finely shapened knife. One misplaced step would bring peril to them all and countless souls now living and yet to be born. Lac knew this from lessons hard learned by his own experience and training. He had seen death's cold and heavy hand fall on many a companion and loved one, he had felt the pangs of self blame for actions not taken and weaknesses shown. He glanced quickly back at his companions and Ssinjin in particular at the back of the group. By her movemnets and coutenance he new she was deep in thought and self shame. This would pass, this he knew, Ssinjin was strong, stronger than even she realized. She too must learn the hard cold lessons required to be a true, noble and just leader, that was her destiny.

Lac looked at the billowing white clouds gathering to the east, in the direction they traveled. Beneath the white cottony clouds grey skies appeared. Lac flipped his hood up and gathered his tattered Elven cloak tighter around him and said flatly "Rain will be upon us before nightfall, make haste we must reach the treeline and seek shelter before it does." A wind from the foothills of the west blew across the plains then died away.

The man comes to a stop as he sees Morgan approaching with her sword drawn. He watches her from beneath the hood before finally slipping a hand from under the cloak, motioning for her to stop. She will notice the hint of a weapon as the cloak opens slightly. "Is this how you greet everyone? With a weapon drawn? Put it away. I mean you no harm."

Tiphereth calmly watches Brianna and the stranger then in the blink of an eye he crosses the distance that separates them and weaponless he stands before the grey cloaked man. Taller than the newcomer he is an imposing sight, but his features are soft and serene. He bows graciously, before the man.

"I am Tiphereth Sorrelwind and this is Brianna. Please, state your business, good sir."

As Tiphereth rises from his bow, he is puzzled by Brianna's reaction, but then she cannot feel as he can. "Peacefully has this man entered our midst, we much extend the same courtesy, less we be no better than the stinking Orcs that infect these lands."

He turns back to the grey cloaked man, aware that Jin may not be so inviting, "Speak sir, and quickly as my companions may not be as receptive as I."

The man looks Brianna over quickly then pulls the hood back to reveal more of his pale, thin features and light blue eyes. "I am nothing more than a ghost, young lady. My intentions, as always, are peaceful unless you have performed some injustice."

He now turns his attention to Tiphereth. "Well met, good sir. My name is Jack Rose and I am here because the spirits have told me of a great evil that is coming. I have come to stop it at any cost."

"Not all ghosts are transparent."

As Brianna moves to stand with Tiphereth, Jack slowly fades from sight. A moment later he appears with a gust of wind a few feet away but still standing in front of them. "I walk a line between life and death, Miss Brianna. In many ways I am nothing more than a ghost."

Tiphereth watches every move that the phantom makes. He exists partially within the Phaerie realm, whose border fringe on that of the spirit world. As Jack fades from sight he can see what those of the physical plane cannot, and the man becomes a shimmering form of himself, his skin like smoke, his grey cloak now tattered and flowing upon the turbulent winds which enshroud him. He moves silently and swiftly but a few feet then becomes flesh once more.

As Jack's vision returns to that of the natural world, he is quite aware that never once did the bright gaze of the one called Tiphereth leave him.

Tiphereth smiles and speaks something in a foreign tongue. He then states in the common tongue, "You are spirit." Then for a moment, Tiphereth becomes non-corporeal and his body begins to reflect all the natural foliage about them, making him almost invisible, but to Jack's eyes he bears witness to a most glorious sight. Tiphereth's hair blazes like an orange fire about his soft white features, shining like the moon, then he returns to the physical world and Brianna once more see's his material form. "My realm fringes the grey, but while I am able to peer into it, never will I dare to walk that desolate place." He extends a hand to the traveler. "I am honoured to meet you, Jack o'the Rose, but your place among us rests upon the discretion of our leader, Lac'Nala." Tiphereth gracefully turns and gestures toward the ranger.