The Docks were as busy as usual. The mesmerising smell of oil and smoke signalled that the ferry, a gigantic airship made to connect the flying city to its ground station Brisburg, was ready for take-off. But Dross wasn't interested in leaving Scamall just jet; he began to cough as the smoke briefly filled his lungs. His new Eternal body worked too well; the configuration of Changeling simulates all that could happen when certain conditions got met. When he strolled in the fuzzy body of his former self through the town, nobody could tell of his Eternal roots even when looking closer. A miracle of a body; every natural function served the purpose to fool his surroundings and recharge his body to never power down if he only continues living normally. But why did it have to include the pain, that comes with it? Dross continued to cough while searching the horizon through his now glassy eyes for his goal; a small inn called "Realms Rest". It should be around here somewhere Dross thought to himself searching through his coat's pockets for the calling card he acquired from Terminus. Finally finding it in the deepest inner pocket of the brown coat, he pulled it out and inspected it for the last time:
'Furor Opilio, the Wildcard; freelance mercenary, advisor, assassin, courier. You have a wish or a task normal people wouldn't do? I will take on even the most ridiculous case if you are ready to wage the cost. No money, but payments of the other kind: Binding favours.'
Dross turned the card around to inspect the route description to the meeting point, trying to align the card with his current point of destination. Just to the right and then straight down the second street? Seemed doable, Dross thought to himself while caressing the card's down-right border, feeling the morse code that will be his gate to Furor. Why, of all people, would Terminus possess such a card? But he shrugged off that thought and continued to follow the given route to the inn.
The house he was facing at the end of the muddy sideway was an inconspicuous looking piece of architecture, that screamed poverty. Nobody, who would be still in their right mind would take this inn as their place of rest for the stay in Scamall. Especially as just down the third street a much better hotel was built recently; same price range, but clean sheets and a functionating lock. But Dross knew, why this place still hasn't closed yet; it must be the work of the Wildcard, he was sure of it. Walking carefully through the entrance looking left and right at the dusty main hall, the owner, an ill-looking salamander with unusually dry skin eventually caught his attention. But that guy wasn't much of a talker; he pointed with his crude, webbed hand down a floor holding up three fingers and then lost interest in his customer. This place felt like a farce, a location that solely exists for the gateway towards that ominous Furor. With a dry throat, Dross looked one last time back to the owner, who answered with a crooked shit-eating grin. A shiny golden row of teeth was blinking to him through the darkness. Dross backed up ever so slightly; he didn't know why, but that row of riches sent more shivers down his tail than the whole slummy and neglected atmosphere, this inn was seething. He didn't want to be here, but then again . . . The Wildcard might be the only way for Dross to acquire, what he was looking for. 
Walking through the long alleyway towards the shown room, Dross looked down at his left arm, feeling the now invisible, hidden underneath his fur, console, that coordinated his whole new transformation game. He knew that this was a gift; he only had to find the right species and personalities to feed himself with to unlock its potential. And as Dross was working on writing a clean version of his travelling book for the cathedral last night, he eventually stumbled across a specific passage. He read it silently for himself to not wake up Raja, who was napping beside him, snuggling herself into his soft fur. Upon finishing the passage, he knew. Knew that the person he was meeting in that encounter was a worthy shape for him; For Itino. 
...
It was a meeting of the third kind, like a dream, a heavenly slumber. Well, at least the first glance. Dross was at that time wandering still alone, fighting through the ruthless tundra of Stiria. He was about to recruit in the many tribalistic villages capable forces for his coming expedition. But suddenly a huge, female looking, lizard with glowing wings appeared over him and covered the sun. Having read about them, Dross instinctively duck down into a nearby man-sized fern and just admired her presence. This majestic being was an arcadian Drago; an exceptionally rare arcadian species of Prius. He has never seen one of those house-sized beauties himself, most of them got speculated to be in possession of some rich assholes, who bought them on the black market. Dross theorised even that far, that this troubled looking Drago might be one of the very few, that were still living in freedom . . . at least for the time being. Having just finished that thought a ray of thunder barely missed the lizard, getting shot out of the direction he was going towards just before. A small group of men, dressed in black, and wearing gun-staves appeared out of the thicket yelling commands with dark excitement. The Drago in the sky was seemingly displeased by her pursuers, she let out a firey scream before letting her voice rumble over the tundra pure hatred resonating withing it:
"I will never bow down to your kind! I heard what you have done to my kin! I will not be a slave of the underground, never!"
The Drago stopped for a brief moment, Dross knew she felt his harmless presence as she shifted her tone from hatred to a challenging yelling. A ray of fire scored a line dangerously close to Dross' position, but he knew, that she was missing on purpose:
"The next ray will turn you all to smoulders! Run little slavers or I will make this day your last.", no reaction, only the charging sound of the gun-staves sizzled through the air; the Drago clenched her fists, "Fine, don't say I gave you a chance of survival."
The Drago swoop down in a spinning motion spitting fire in an arc that forced her pursues to go another way, than his. Dross could make out a friendly smile in her eyes, as their glances meet for a brief moment, and she directed the pursuit into another direction dodging the ice, fire and Lightning thrown at her. As quick as the shadowy figures arrived, as fast they were gone again and with them this majestic girl.
...
Dross started shivering when he remembered the power he felt at that day . . . and her elegance; like a messenger from heaven. He knew that he had to acquire their power for himself; this could be enough firepower to guard Raja against everything Squa'osa will challenge them with. And now he was here, in the shown room, about to meet up with maybe the only person, who could make his wish come true. He knew about the risks of taking the assistance of Furor; after all, he was a living legend. And if that means assuring the safety of this elf, that stole his heart in a swoop . . . Dross was ready to take the gamble. He knew that this was especially risky, as he will get officially promoted to an Enlightened watcher in the coming weeks. There will be so much, that the Wildcard could gain from having favours open with him. But that was a concern for after the meeting. He looked across the dirty room and rested his view on a shiny plate, resting at the wall on the other end. His newfound divine attunement instantaneously told him, that something was afoot. 
The energy going out from this plate was different . . . oddly familiar.