As he came to, Rathma immediately regretted whatever it was he'd been thinking the night before. He knew better than to sleep outside, when it was cold, and when it was going to rain. Really he did.
Not that he really felt either of those things. His cloak had done an admirable job as ever keeping him protected from the elements. His skin was perfectly dry, and only the tips of his fingers and tail were cold. No, the feeling was much more bone-deep than that. His joints cracked and popped audibly, and muscles protested angrily as the nephalem pushed himself up from where he lay.
Rathma thought this may have been a sign that he was getting old. Just maybe.
Taking stock of where he was, the ancient nephalem decided that it was a very good thing he tended not to move when he slept; he'd come to rest at the top of the Zakarum Cathedral. His tail dangled over the edge of an almost forty foot drop, swaying gently whenever there was a breeze. Around his makeshift sleep-spot, scaffolding creaked and groaned ominously. It must've been very early morning, for no one was around.
Now he remembered; he'd been unsettled last night. In the past, he'd always been able to go and share his troubles with Trag'Oul.
The dragon wasn't around anymore, and did not seem to be coming back. In his place, the stars were a good enough replacement. They could not whisper back their perspective or wisdom, if they had any, but they were familiar and eternal, and that had been enough.
There were several towers taller than the church, but most were unfortunately filled and surrounded with people. No one has been in the Zakarum Cathedral at that hour though. Its bell tower had made a fine perch for airing one's grievances to the sky.
Of course, at no point had Rathma intended to fall asleep while star-gazing. Oh well.
Sitting up, Rathma swung his legs to dangle over the edge. Peering down, his mouth pressed into a grim line. Yes, a fall from this height would've almost certainly killed him. Maybe he would've landed on a tombstone if he fell in the right direction - he was overlooking the noble's graveyard.
It would've been ironic, at the least.
Glancing around, he decided it was probably a good idea to get off the church's bell-tower. His limbs continued to protest with spikes of pain as he stood, and began clamoring on down. The shingles were soft enough to sink his clawed fingers into for grip, and his hooves were excellent for steep angles. Angling his tail for balance, Rathma reassembled a giant possum rather than anything humal. It was probably a good thing no one was around to see him at the moment. He was not in the mood to get screamed at.
Despite the radical difference in architecture, the church still reminded him very much of his father's old Cathedral. Even the teachings of 'Zakarum', from what he'd heard, bore great likeness to Inarius's doctrine. It made Rathma wonder if there was anything else the religions had in common…
There were tales that the so called 'Zakarum Faith' had been started at the behest of an angel. Others believed that the angel was actually Uldyssian. Having actually met the man in question, Rathma was incredibly doubtful. Uldyssian had been a lot of things, but a church-head was not one of them.
But then, was there really another angel?
It irked him that the celestials couldn't seem to keep out of mortal business, despite the fact that they were the ones who had deemed it so. Maybe they meant well, like Tyrael, or Eirena's prophet. Maybe it was just another grab for power. Rathma was still of the opinion that, either way, Heaven and Hell should simply leave Sanctuary alone.
Hopping to the ground, Rathma found himself in the shadow of the church, and looked up. The sun was rising just above the roof now, and something about the sight made both his hearts stutter.
It reminded him terribly of Inarius. Terribly so.
Unwilling to face such things this early, Rathma turned and fled the church grounds. So much for finding comfort in this place - all he'd found was a pain in the neck.