With the unicorn's departure, Hlak'hnchaeir settles into his anchor for a nap; setting a ward to awaken himself instantly in the event of danger or serious disturbance.
Several hours later, he startles awake as someone tears a passage into the immediate area from some good distance away.
"*******!" he thinks. "That's got to be the clumsiest Gate I've ever experienced." In his experience people don't get that sort of power without far more skill. "These people must learn that there are better methods."
Spreading his awareness through the surrounding forest, he takes a measure of newcomers, discovering four sapients, two being channels of the Lords of Orhan, one a mage of fairly good strength, and a single mentalist of very strong spirit. He also discovers that with them is an animate statue with an artificial spirit. It is the size and approximate shape a domesticated cat. All five are headed his way with cautious intent.
With caution, Hlak'hnchaeir observes the golem's spirit. Though rather amateurish, it's also fairly complex, and over time has developed some sophistication within the limits of its creation. Communication on the physical level appears to be rudimentary, but the construct understands a great deal. Pleased with his discovery, Hlak'hnchaeir shows himself to the golem, sending out a friendly "Hello."
It pauses. Observes. Acknowledgment, it sends out. . . . Interrogative? You do not appear hostile. Additional information requested.
Though crude, the intent seems well thought out. A moderately complex creation, formed by a gifted amateur is Hlak'hnchaeir's best guess. It seems untainted by the wasteland, though as a physically embodied construct, it exists more on that plane than this one.
"How CUTE!" he thinks. Then he sends out, Friendly. Sent by Gods. Seeking Chosen One. (Chosen One is youthful, strong of will, sensitive, great of spirit, with great potential.)
THINKING--- Friendly. Made by (imageform of a twisted individual, overtones of death but with a core of lightness and brilliance). Assisting (imageform of a fairly average man, but one wreathed in starlit darkness with something . . . Disturbing to your senses)
Friends. Hlak'hnchaeir sends with affection and reassurance.
Friends, responds the cat golem.
The dark shrouded man is here, at the perimeter of the clearing. At his side is a worked blade. Runes of power, nearly self aware in their complexity are burned into the spirit of the blade, and resident, not trapped but resident in the structure of the runes, is a soul. A living soul. You can see how some of the runes connect the holder of the blade to the soul resident within it.
Hlak'hnchaeir reveals himself to the soul in the blade, attempting to discern it's spiritual capacities, particularly awareness of other spirits and communication. "Hello?"
"Hello," the soul replies warily. "Who are you and what do you want here?"
There seems to be a basic awareness of other spirits, but no finely detailed senses. Most of it's power seems channeled and focused through the knife it, no he is resident in.
The soul in a knife makes Hlak'hnchaeir very uncomfortable. His background teaches that binding a mortal soul to a fixed object is highly immoral, and for a soul to willingly assume such a position is even more immoral. Even mortal ghosts should be sent to the afterlife as quickly as might be. Still, he supposed it might be like reincarnation, sometimes done in order to ensure a greater good.
"I am who I am. I aide the balance by awaiting my chosen one," he replies while continuing to send reassurance and comfort to the golem.
The knife seems to accept this. "I am one whose destiny was unfulfilled. I aid the Hand against Lorgalis."