Aris Cretu paused, his hands itched to draw his greatsword, "Who goes there?"

The metal-clad figure stood silent.

Aris clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to draw his blade and have done with it, "Who. Goes. There?"

The metal-clad figure shrugged, and stepped from behind the tree, "If I knew, I would tell you. What year is it?"

Aris relaxed slightly, "750"

"Was I really asleep for only thirty two years? But that can't be, everything in my room had decayed to dust..."

Ilelahne SiDabolo cleared her throat, "seven hundred and fiftieth year since the end of the Seminal War. Seven hundred and fifty years after the destruction of Alexandria."

The metal-clad figure froze solid. Slowly it sunk to a cross-legged seat on the ground, then fell over onto its back. "So many years, so much lost... were I flesh, I would weep."

Aris got his first good look at the figure as it lay there. It was silithid in form: a torso with the usual two legs, two arms, and head covered by fine scales. But instead of flesh, it was covered, no skinned, in fine metal. No attempt had been made to hide the artificial nature of the figure: no clothing covered its form, no muscles bulged, no anatomical details had been included below the neck. "Lady SiDabolo, what is this this thing?"

Ilelahne frowned, "It appears to be a warforged, a living construct. The Silithid Empire used them during the war, but their secrets were lost with Alexandria. Most of them were near-mindless, little more than combat beasts, but this one... Something is different about this one. It speaks, it moves with near-organic fluidity, it knows that it had a name."

Aris frowned, "I think the oldest of the Logs mentioned that there had been some theoretical meta-arcane research on the warforged before the fall of Alexandria, but they never mentioned what that research was Lady SiDabolo, "

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The warforged stirred, "Lady SiDabolo...? The Logs...? Why does that seem familiar... Why does my mind have these holes...?"

A jagged-edged rift appeared in the air and a black-cloaked figure stepped from it, "Do you want to know, old soul?"

Ilelahne frowned, "what sort of being uses an unstable Gate so casually?"

Aris spat on the ground, "What fresh catastrophe, Black Cloak?"

Black Cloak shrugged, "A lore-keeper once thought dead by all including myself. Though I suppose he did die, his body made as ashes on the wind, but his soul did not pass on."

Aris grunted, "that makes both of us not-dead and not-undead."

Black Cloak nodded, "actors still on the stage after the curtains should have fallen, yes."

Ilelahne tugged at one pointy ear, "so who is this old soul then?"

Black Cloak Turned to look at Aris and Ilelahne, "you both know of him, though I dare not speak his name at this time. The question is whether or not he wants to know again. I can gift him this knowledge, all of the memories and sensations of his life before his death, but only if he wishes to know. It will be painful, for once gifted there is no forgetting, no unseeing, no unknowing. The Silent asked to know what lives beyond the stars. I showed her, and it changed her forever. The alternative is to help the old soul remember on his own, with books and tales, myth and song, time and patience."

Aris blanched, "Mul knows of you? And you left her to scream for two days?"

Black Cloak nodded sadly, "there was nothing else I could do. Any aid I could have rendered would have come with a dire risk of making her condition worse still."

The warforged stirred and came to a sitting position, "You I remember clearly, along with your teasing questions. I do wish to remember once more, in all of its horror and glory. The hole in my mind will itch forever if I do not."

Black Cloak held out a hand, "then take my hand, Innoch Warforged, and remember."

Innoch stood and took Black Cloaks hand, then collapsed onto the round with the sound of metal tearing.

Black Cloak stepped back, "I must leave now, lest my presence worsen his condition further. Good luck." He stepped back through the rift and vanished as silently as he had appeared.

Ilelahne rushed over to the fallen form, "unconscious, as far as I can tell. I could use a hand, but you have to get ready for your performance. You should make an Appearance at the dance for political reasons..." She trails off as she tries to pry one of Innoch's eyelids open.