The Heart of Ashra... He'd heard of it, it was more than just a legend. And such a legend he'd been hunting for months now. It hadn't been easy to find, and Adaron had discovered early on that nothing in his life would be made such. However, it was nice to find that there were plenty of things one could do to balance out that little aspect, and Adaron tired of fate countering him at every measure.
This was where he tracked the last known location of the Heart, a tomb from the heart of the desert, which had been excavated months before. But there was more to the shriveled crude lump that met the eye, but Adaron wanted to examine it himself before he could be sure.
Adaron appeared out of place in Cerenis, being taller and bulkier than most Serenians at large, but fitting in was the last thing on his mind. Through rose-tinted vision, he felt traces of energy lead him toward the Chamber House where, he learned from passersby, a great display of antiquities was going on, hosted by the Florian Bavareon Society for the Preservation of Items ofCultural Significance.
What a bunch of windbags must be in there, Adaron thought, inwardly rolling his eyes.
When he approached the steps, he looked at the man posted the door, checking invitations. "Are you on the guest list, sir?" he asked. Adaron stared at him a moment.
"Of course," he replied, but it was evident by the snooty glares he was receiving, that the gentleman at the door didn't think he would fit in.
"And your name?"
"Andreyscu. See, right there." He pointed toward the first name he saw on the list that wasn't crossed off.
The man scoffed a laugh and directed his quill pen to Adaron's attire. "Fabian Andresyscu? I don't quite think you're dressed for the occasion. This is an expensive event sir, and if you cannot even afford the clothes for it, I hardly think you've been invited."
Adaron returned that glare and felt the fire of anger boiling in his belly. "Don't be so quick to make assumptions. I was a part of the excavation."
"If you were such an important member, then show me your invitation."
Adaron reached into his robe tunic and felt nothing. "I, er, seem to have forgotten it."
"That's what I thought. Now, please, move along sir, you've got a line growing behind you."
Adaron stepped away, people passing by him and he felt their scowls. Stuff shirts indeed. But it was no matter. He was going to get in one way or another. And if they didn't want to play nice, he wasn't going to play nice either. Adaron stepped back toward the man. "Excuse me, I think I just found my invitation." And he pulled him aside. His left eye abruptly glowed and surged bright red. In a flash, the light emerged in a powerful beam that struck the top of the entrance to the building, cracking stone and snapping it, and blasting it apart.
Those by the door screamed and ran for cover as stone and mortar flew everywhere. And as the smoke billowed out from the crumbled entrance, Adaron stalked through it. He viewed the crowd, the ones that were too far way to be struck by the blast, and they stared right back at him. The orchestra that played stopped, and even cowered. "Don't stop having a good time on my account," he said, and pushed through the crowd, heading for the heart.
Well, that was one to crash a party.