"Emissary of Gungir the Ageless, you may see my fount," the soothing voice permitted, "but take no more than a vile and see that my daughters are given sanctuary only in realms where the virtues are upheld." The man opened the vile and gazed into the pure, blue water. It was curious to see the water stay completely still despite the small geyser that sprang from the center of the pool; it seemed to almost form a pedestal- but upon it there was no trophy. Mobolin had not believed Jupiter's account to be true. He still would not believe them if he were not present himself at this very moment about to dip his own hand into the original Sapphire Fount. "Gungir the Ageless?" he shook his head as he stepped forth; He'd only ever known the wizard as Jupiter. He drew the water slowly, knowing this may be the only chance he'd ever get to bathe his hands in this mystical liquid. He looked at his hand as it submerged just below the surface; to his amazement he beheld the scar that he had born for so many years seemed to vanish. Instead he saw the hand as it was before it was calloused with work, battle, and age; before the Lizardmen had removed his index finger - a futile attempt to try and make him reveal the location of his brothers in arms. The illusion waned as he pulled his hand forth and sealed the vile. Yet somehow the nub seemed to have lengthened, if only slightly. He somehow knew the waters could have restored his finger completely; he started to wonder why it was not done, but then he realized he himself had not wished it. Although it could be a great relief to no longer have to provide explanations to strangers when they took notice, his missing finger had become a personal symbol of his true character. He noticed though that the tightness of the years had subsided almost completely. Something he'd given up hope would ever dwindle. "Lady of Youth," Mobolin spoke solemnly, "you have given me an eternal honor, which I hope that may be repaid by the legacy of my family. I shall see to it that my children's children honor thy gift for as many generations as it stands in my power." He bowed to a company he could not perceive. He could hear her voice, feel her presence, but still his eyes saw only the pure water before him. "I have seen your true heart, Master Mobolin, and I now speak words your tongue will be quite unable to repeat," as she spoke the next line Mobolin perceived the divine figure of a woman appear before him. "You now know my true name, and I so name you Mobolin the Guardian." Her words were indeed truth; for although she had just revealed her name, he could not utter it; he could think of no arrangement of letters or words that would ever sound the same for her name had elicited a clear vision of enormous sapphire stones, of celestial lights, and of glorious choirs singing. "I do not name you lightly, Mobolin the Guardian. But I have felt within the Ebb traces of a being I once thought vanquished; for which cause I feel necessary a new nomenclature be granted. Take therefore my Sapphire Droplets and see that they are bestowed unto all those who will join Zeddar and oppose this this great evil." "M'Lady," Mobolin bowed again, now towards the pristine woman whom he could clearly see. He closed his eyes and drifted off into an enchanted slumber. Dreams were a method of travel which was still ages beyond the comprehension of men by any means, be they scholarly or mystical. When Mobolin awoke he found himself kneeling at the altar of Spirituality.
