Takals dreams that night are vivid. Again he sees his grandfather calling to him for help, but he is across a chasm and is too far to reach. Thundering noises are heard as smoke rises from below. Then he hears that cry that sent his skin cold the day he first heard it, and still leaves him uneasy to date. The cry of a dragon. Takal relives a memory. A memory hes not sure whether it has happened whether it might or whether it will, all the same it is something he wishes desperately he could get away from. No amount of monk concentration practices can purge the images of dragons, fire and orcs from his sleeping mind. He awakes with his hand outstretched reaching for something, but in his state unsure of what.<br/><br/>Those with sound noses will smell before they see the thick curling white sweet scented smoke billowing from Takals room.<br/><br/>Takal feels uneasy. His mind has been trained to be like steel, and yet grim tidings still plague his unconscious in a way he has never before experienced. Takal was not taught to be a man of faith, he was taught to be a man of resolve.<span style="font-style: italic">Clearly if something is plaguing me, I must train harder to overcome it.</span><br/><br/>Takal performs mental and concentration exercises until summoned.