It wasn't really a realisation he welcomed, not least when they then insisted on putting him in charge, but ultimately someone has to be at the top of the tree, and why not the first person to arrive in this strange new world. That he could reckon numbers well enough to administer a small camp was a bonus.
It had been a week since he and Tammid and Ahumm had fallen through the hole in the world, and landed in this place called Arginet. They had met with some of the spirits of legend, even spoken with one. Not Saraf or her siblings, though, and that was ... no bad thing. A being such as Whispers of the Waterfall was all but overwhelming to encounter, and Rekhubel suspected that in the presence of more power and majesty than that he would simply be struck dumb altogether. Or perhaps driven delerious. He had not been proud of his stammering and prostration upon meeting Whispers of the Waterfall, but hopefully it had read respect into his bewildered but hopeful fumblings. And now, they were at the Abbey of Holy Reflection: a water cult, loosely aligned to Saraf and her kin, and willing to take in strays such as themselves. Ahum muttered from near the door, reading his way through another book of spirits and stories, looking for something that might aid the people back home. Tammid lay flat on one of the beds in their shared rooms, snoring softly. Though the three of them had not been close before they fell out of the world, it was nowadays difficult to think of being apart for long. They were each all that the others had left, after all.
Rekhubel's pen scratched again as he finished the last line on the page, and he cursed softly and blotted the mess of ink. Still legible, at least good enough for the Fivefold Way, he hoped. In the morning, he'd take it down to the Temple and hope they'd be willing to print it in their newssheet.
Know you any who hail from Beni Saraf? Perhaps you, yourself. Rekhubel of Beni Saraf sets a camp at the Abbey of the Holy Reflection, in Fiveways. People of Saraf, of Gozal, Dob, Namer and Nakhash, gather here, that our stories not be lost. Together, perhaps, we can begin anew.