|
Post by irishmagician on Jan 19, 2012 22:37:49 GMT -4
Chaos Rift The sun begins to rise on the horizon, its presence heralding another start to a morning in Oakdale. The hustle and bustle of crowds moving about the town fills the air, as the town slowly comes alive once again from its evening rest. Farmers and merchants slowly trundle their carts full of produce and items for sale towards the marketplace in the center of town. The sound of window shutters and door opening fill the streets, as shopkeepers ready their stores for the daily business. Clanking steps of armored bodies mingle amidst the sound, the town guardsmen relieving the evening shift of their guard-duty for the day.
To the north side of town, bleary-eyed students rouse themselves from their dormitories, many sleep deprived from late-night cramming sessions in preparation for the burgeoning examinations. The professors and staff of the Oakdale Academy, having long since learned the value of a good night's rest, have already long been up and ready themselves to impart their knowledge again to students under their tutelage. Even sleep can not hold the progress of mages, as small flashes of light and acrid smells begin wafting from the Wizard's School, indicative of the various magickal projects and experiments underway.
It is business as usual in Oakdale, the cloudless sky lending itself to a rather pleasant day indeed. The scene is set for this tale, a tale that starts with simple beginnings and daily life. Yet even the calmest waters can hide a relentless current, a force that could bring about a change of almost cataclysmic proportions. But for now, this tale follows the lives of six unknowing heroes; unaware of what events lie in store for them ahead. And so it begins....
|
|
|
Post by blackhawk on Jan 20, 2012 1:17:53 GMT -4
The clanging of hammer on metal rings clearly in the morning as Dawn breaks on the Strategist's Square. The early morning traffic on the square moves about sleepily, with carts of things from hay to barrels moving through.
As a younger man in a brown tunic and belt walks in, Vulgrim quenches the dagger he has been working on and, setting his hammer down, Scratches his nose.
"Welcome to me shop. What can'ne do for ye?"
The 4' 10" Dwarf that steps out of the forge area is stocky, moreso than dwarves usually are, and is corded with muscle. His dark red hair and beard reflect some of the forge glow as he moves through the shop. He dusts his hands off on a thick leather apron and sticks out his hand to the youngster in greeting. "Vulgrim's me name." Upon receiving a slightly crushing handshake, the youth stammers that he needs a quick fix on his sword. Apparently he dropped it last night when he was cleaning it, breaking the tip.
"Aye, I do that. Won't take but a moment te fix 'er up for ye." Vulgrim takes the damaged weapon from the youth. He gestures with his very bearded chin to a bench out in the store proper. "'Ave a seat out there iffin ya want. I'll have this fixed up foor ye in a bit." Vulgrim stomps back to the forge and, squinting brown eyes at the tip for a moment, gets to work. Around 30 minutes later he comes out of the forge, fixed weapon in hand. He puts it on the counter ad the youth gets up. "That'll be 7 Silver. Ye be lucky ya broke it as ye did. Managed it in such a manner that 'twere not so much of a problem te fix. 'Couple fingers higher and ye would have been worse off." He takes the payment from the patron, biting one of the coins and putting them into a pocket. "Were I you, I would find a better blade next time ye buy one. Tha one ya got there is noot the best quality." He taps it with a broad hand. "Shoddy temperin'. Stands to reason thet they would do it that way, whot with the number o swords they make for ya apprentices. Still a damn shame on their smithin though."
The youth thanks him, and hurredly exits the smithy. Vulgrim takes a walk to the entrance and looks out, stretching. Teday has the makins of a good day. He snorts a laugh and walks back into the smithy. Much better than that rain we goot earlier this week. Cannae stand miserable drizzles like that...
Taking the dagger back and heating it up once more he sets back to work. I ought te visit tha Temple later...
The clanging of hammer on metal once again rings out in the morning.
|
|
mith
Junior Member
Posts: 90
|
Post by mith on Jan 22, 2012 18:01:45 GMT -4
Awakening to the usual commotion of a large market in the morning, Tomah pushed aside the heavy curtains and looked out over the bustling square. Bells and smiths' hammers rung up from the shops below his second-floor room just off the main road. "Ah, the sweet sound of others' work!" He enjoyed the loudness of Oakdale's square an hour after dawn, when most of the city was already at work.
He hummed to himself as he dressed, ate, and gathered a few of the notes he had scribbled by candlelight late the night before, and started up the road to the Academy.
Nearing the gates, he took on the daydreaming, slow sauntering gait that had become his characteristic style at the Academy. 'Grumplestiltskin' took a pinch of fragrant dried leaves from a pouch on his belt and chewed them. His studies at the Academy were not so frequent as they had been months ago, but he still liked to read and mix elixirs in the student's laboratories. And today, he had a special project for Jorell as well.
The Sage seemed to require many strange concoctions as of late, from ingredients that Grumplestiltskin had never heard mentioned in his beginners' or even Journeyman's classwork. A fair number of these he had encountered before (though he usually feigned ignorance), but today's mixture would be an entirely new project. Rare plants, crushed minerals, and some mundane residues which had strange enchantments on them. He had been reading over Jorell's notes and instructions carefully for the past few days, and felt ready to begin. This morning, he had heard the butcher and the fletcher fighting from his room again - that was always a good omen. Grumplestiltskin said a cheerful “g’mornin’!” to the students and apprentices in the already-busy laboratories, gathered his reagents, and got to work.
|
|
|
Post by Naerwen on Jan 24, 2012 0:51:40 GMT -4
Naerwen woke up early enough to go for a stroll and have breakfast before the day’s training started. She grinned and shook her head when she saw that Tiriel was still asleep on the headboard. She grabbed her bag and slung it across her shoulder as she patted Tiriel on the head cooing, “Wake up sleepyhead.” Tiriel ruffled her feathers and opened her eyes as she stretched her wings. The bird let out a soft screech and flew over to Naerwen’s shoulder.
Naerwen gently rubbed the feathers under Tiriel’s chin as she walked to the door and headed out for the day. After a brief hike through the woods they came to their favorite spot next to the spring. As she knelt down to offer some corn for the squirrels and other creatures Tiriel swooped over the spring and caught a fish for breakfast. Naerwen unwrapped her pack and pulled out the dried venison strips, cheese, and biscuit for her breakfast. As she ate she listened to the sounds of nature and enjoyed the bright, sunny day. A couple of squirrels came up to eat the corn she had offered. Once breakfast had time to settle Naerwen filled up her water skin and headed to the place where she was to meet the student she was to tutor for the morning.
After sitting for a few moments Naerwen saw a young lad named Leodak come scurrying up the path carrying a half eaten biscuit in his mouth and a water skin in his hand. He was a tall, thin half-elf with shaggy black hair and bright hazel eyes of blue and green. As he realized Naerwen could see him he quickly took the biscuit out of his mouth and tried to hide it. When he finally came close enough she chuckled and told him to finish his breakfast. She noticed a crescent moon shaped scar on the underside of his wrist as he ate.
After he scarfed down the remains of his breakfast he looked to Naerwen ready to listen. She leaned on her staff as she asked if he had been having trouble calling animals to him. He nodded, and she asked that he try to call one so she could see what he was doing wrong. Nervously he nodded and got up off of the fallen log they had been sitting on. He knelt down and held out his hand. After a few moments his face was all scrunched up, and it looked like he was going to strain himself. She walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Here; stand up. Take a look around, tell me what you hear, and how many animals you see.”
He looked defeated, but nodded and did as she requested. There was a slight breeze blowing through the trees. After a few moments he murmured, “I hear wind … and … I see …” he turned around in a circle scanning the landscape only noticing Tiriel on Naerwen’s shoulder. “Your bird.” He bowed his head and stared at the ground.
Naerwen nodded and thought for a moment. “Ok, I want you to try something with me.” She sat down on the ground Indian style and patted the ground next to her so that Leodak would follow her example. She took a breath and said, “Clear your mind. Focus on your breathing, the scent of the Earth, the sounds around you, the warmth of the sun … feel the energy. Notice how it pulsates like a heartbeat. The energy is alive. Allow the energy to flow around you, through you, become one with it. When you feel like you’re resonating with the energy’s flow focus again on the sounds you hear, the aromas you detect, and the animals you see.”
It took a few minutes for him to stop fidgeting, but eventually Leodak relaxed enough. The birds began to chirp, a couple of squirrels could be seen chasing each other around a tree chattering at one another in the distance, a doe could be seen eating near a large pine tree, and the scent of soil, leaves, and moss could be detected. Leodak became very excited and started to lose his concentration. As he did so the animals got quiet again. He looked to Naerwen as if to ask what happened. She grinned and told him to focus. Tiriel let out a screech causing him to jump. Naerwen let out a small laugh. “Keep practicing.”
|
|
|
Post by zeferin on Jan 24, 2012 2:56:18 GMT -4
The first rays of light bled through the shut curtains, casting a dim red light into the otherwise dark room. It might have been more apt to call it a shed rather than a room, though. With just enough space for a small bed, a thin bookcase, and the rest taken up by a thick table that was cluttered with books, melted candles, a few medical tools, and a rather large leather backpack. As the light continued to grow in strength, more light shown into the little room, finally spilling over the small bed and revealing its occupant who was far too large for it.
Grunting and rolling over to try to escape the light, the sun eventually won the fight and the tall, slim figure slowing roused himself out of the bed and planted his feet on the ground. Taking a small bowl next to his bed, he filling it with a small pool of water from a pale that was next to the bowl, and washed his face, scrubbing the sleep away. Pouring the rest of the water out the window, the man walked to the table, grabbed a set of clean white clothes from and quickly changed. Turning back around, the man then walked back to the bed, reached down under it, and then pulled out a chain that he then wrapped lightly around his arm under his sleeve. With the sleeve rolled back down and the chain concealed, he when back to the table, pulled out a small box from the backpack.
As he opened the box, the top split into two pieces that he sat on both sides of the box. He then pulled from the box a match, a few, small candles, and a painted wooden symbol. Setting the symbol in the center and the newly lite candles on the side, the man bowed down and began to pray. "True and Unbiased Judge of us all, here my pray. Give me this day so that I may serve you and allow me defeat those that mock you with their sins. Just Pharasma, let me be the judge, the jury and the executioner. Let my judgments be final and swift. I am Trazishion Dyear'nelther, your servant and your instrument to use." Rising back to his feet, the man put out the candles, put the small alter back into the back, and grabbed a tool kit full of medical supplies and walked outside.
Walking quickly through the town, Trazish walked past the gates that separated the Wizarding School from the rest of Oakdale and headed straight for the morgue that resided in the basement of the building for the school of Necromacy. The old morgue in which his father worked and died in had been closed down and destroyed since Trazish's leaving after the townsfolk found what remained of Brom's body, the ritual runes on the floor, and remains of what he had tried to bring back. Trazish was glad from point of view that he would never have to step foot in that building that had plagued him with nightmares for years after that terrifying night, but on the down side he had to work in the building that mocked his goddess every day with experiments that tried to bring the dead back to life. With the town thinking that he was just a simple, antisocial doctor that preferred his patients cold, Trazish couldn't blow his cover to stop some petty attempts to bring back the dead. In most cases, they would only bring back an animal and only once did he have to break into the building to put a poor excuse of an Undead back to its resting place. Thankfully, the staff thought the stunt to be the works of a student from one of the other schools.
Arriving at his office, unlocking the door and locking it back up behind him, Trazish got to work by first taking the chain off. As soon as he took it off, the chain turned into a greatsword that Trazish placed on a table nearby. Next, he set to work preparing the dead bodies of those that offered themselves up for research. Pulling out the small pocket watch he had on him, Trazish sighed and said, "Pharasma, let this be the day I find out why you sent me Oakdale. I don't know how much longer I can stand being in the same building as these....Necromancers."
(OOC: edited due to typos that were bugging me.)
|
|
|
Post by irishmagician on Jan 24, 2012 16:10:34 GMT -4
(OOC: For easier reference from here on, I will be "color-coding" checks/rolls/etc. that I need you to make. Blackhawk, yours will be red. Naerwen, yours will be green. Mith, yours will be blue. Finally, Zeferin, yours will be brown.)
It is not long after the dwarven smith turns back to his work, as yet another visitor interrupts him from his task. A young man, a human, strides in wearing robes bearing the insignia of an apprentice Transmuter. He hesitates briefly, uncertain to interrupt his work, as the mage raises his voice above the din of the hammer.
"Excuse me? Sir Blacksmith?" the mage calls. "You have a request from the Archmage, again. The schematics and designs are in this parcel," he says, as the you man pulls a small package out from a robe pocket; hesitantly proffering it in the dwarf's general direction.
..............................
Meanwhile, in the Hunter's Woods on the west side of the Academy.....
Young Leodak massages his temples gently, a wan attempt to ward of a burgeoning headache after many failed attempts during training this morning. Suppressing a sigh of exasperation, he falls again into the meditative mood and stance that he had been instructed. Sending out his awareness, tries to be one with the forest around him.
Wild Empathy Check: [dice=20]+2+2
His hard work seems to have paid off, as the local wildlife seems to timidly creep into the clearing. Leodak is soon covered in frolicking squirrels and foxes nudging their noses in his various pockets for crumbs. Even a bear sits quietly at the edge of the clearing, observing the scene with an aged amusement.
...........................................
Craft(Alchemy) Check: [dice=20]+3
A rather loud explosion rocks the Alchemy Lab, as a now soot-covered student staggers back coughing from his work bench. Bits and pieces of a formerly-intact cauldron lie embedded in the walls nearby, as they give off small trails of smoke. Several Lab Aides rush over to the bench, looks of exasperation clearly written on their faces. "Well, that's five of 'em already, and it's not even midday, yet," says a student at another nearby bench. Others nearby nod sagely, and turn back to their various projects.
As "Grumplestiltskin" arrives at his work bench, a pile of order forms for various requests await him. The familiar scrawl of the Archmage's assistant can be quite visibly seen on the top of the stack. Several other researchers and alchemists nearby give sympathetic looks in his direction as he approaches, each having their own workload to address as well.
(OOC: In your next post, roll a "Craft (Alchemy)" check to represent your progress through the orders.)
.......................
In the morgue next to his office, 4 cadavers await Trazish as he gets ready for work. Each is covered by a white sheet, revealing little from the bodies that lie beneath them. The smell of preservative permeates the air thickly, while gleaming silver instruments lie stacked neatly on trays near each table. Beyond this, the morgue lies still and silent; no sounds penetrating this room from the classes being held from the School of Necromancy above.
(OOC: In your next post, roll a "Heal" check to represent your autopsies and other procedures you perform.)
[rand=94738852267870341078797091053823673394868665154046831328708760198]
|
|
|
Post by blackhawk on Jan 24, 2012 21:25:42 GMT -4
Vulgrim looks up from his work, frowning a bit. He looks at the the dagger he had once again been working on. He shakes his head and sets it aside. Pleanty 'o time te work on it later. Setting aside his hammer he takes the parcel from the young transmuter.
"Alright. I'll give it a look o'er and git te workin' on it. I donnae have any pressin' commissions at t'e moment."
He walks over to his table, parcel in hand, and looks over the contents as the Mage walks out, mumbling to himself as he looks over the contents. "Hrmmm... what do 'ye have for me t' do this time. Yer last commission was a fair bit o' work."
After looking over the parcel Vulgrim intends to set about getting things ready for the commission, acquiring materials as needed and roughing out some of it if possible.
|
|
|
Post by irishmagician on Jan 24, 2012 21:48:58 GMT -4
The dwarf gazes down at a sketch for the order given by the apprentice. Initially appearing simple enough, a medium-sized dagger with no particular ornamentation, a closer look reveals the complexity of the request. Thin, curling symbols and runes are drawn to cover the entirety of the blade; almost giving it an appearance that something is continuously moving when you look at it. While the effort to etch these symbols is not a difficult task, the intricacy of the design could prove a challenge.
(OOC: If you wish to accept the request, roll a "Craft (Weapons)" check to represent your effort in making the blade.)
|
|
|
Post by Naerwen on Jan 24, 2012 22:11:11 GMT -4
Delighted that Leodak was able to call the animals to him Naerwen let a rare smile escape. Leodak tried to sit still while the animals rummaged through his pockets, but looked as if he might roll over and start seizing as their tiny paws and noses tickled him. Naerwen fished out some corn and handed it to him so the squirrels would hopefully quit tickling the boy. The squirrels eagerly ransacked the stash of corn in his hand. They would take a kernel and sit on their hind legs as they rotated the seed with their tiny hand-like paws and nibbled the edges until the seed was gone. When they were finished they would pick through the pile in the boy’s hands until they found another one they wanted.
Naerwen looked through her bag once more, and managed to pull out some apple slices she had intended to save for lunch. Since the foxes decided to join them she figured this would be a more appropriate use of the fruit. She closed the bag and rotated it around to where it rested in her lap. Not quite sure what to offer the bear other than apple slices she smiled and respectfully bowed her head for a moment in order to acknowledge that she was glad of its presence. She made a mental note to find some honey to carry around with her in the future.
The squirrels finally decided that they had their fill and scampered over to a tree where they continued to chatter and chase each other. Naerwen handed Leodak some apple slices and proceeded to offer one to the fox nearest her. You could briefly catch a glimpse of the fox’s canines as it gently and cautiously took the apple by the tip farthest from Naerwen in its tiny mouth. They shared their time with the animals for a while. When the majority of creatures had gone back to their daily tasks Naerwen got up and dusted off. Since the animals had enjoyed Naerwen’s lunch and Leodak hadn’t brought one with him they headed back to the Lodge. Tiriel flew with them keeping a watchful eye and making lazy circles now and then or hovering in headwinds to keep a similar pace.
|
|
|
Post by blackhawk on Jan 25, 2012 0:07:21 GMT -4
Hrm. I seem te hav' the bits for it. Vulgrim taps a thick finger on the table, and then shrugs. Might as well get started. That etching is gonnae take a bit o work.
Taking the sketch with him, Vulgrim walks back to the forge. He sets the other dagger off to the side. He pins the sketch to the wall above his workspace, squints at it for a bit, and then grabs a bar of steel. Giving it a once over, he starts heating it. He pictures the form the dagger will take in his mind, picks up his hammer, and gets to work.
Craft: Weapons: [dice=20] + 12[rand=4715856057591736316603609290905297595624488312751529233360895887]
|
|
|
Post by irishmagician on Jan 25, 2012 11:06:57 GMT -4
The smith begins his work on the dagger, the sounds of his efforts ringing across the Square lit by the morning sun. The dwarf experiences no issues or difficulties with the task, but progress is slow and tedious.
(OOC: Crafting the dagger will require two hours of smithing)
...........................................
Naerwen and Leodak arrive back at the Hunter's Lodge half an hour later, having taken their time navigating the trails and paths through the forest. Standing outside of the Lodge's entrance is a tall man in a earthen-brown robe, leaning against a wooden staff. Seeing the two approach, he nods in greeting at the pair.
"Fair morning, to you both. I trust morning exercises went well?" he asks. Turning to look directly at Leodak, he smiles at him. "Animal Physiology is being held in the lecture room on the second floor. If you hurry, you may avoid being late." The boy almost falls over himself as he rushes into the Lodge, scurrying up the stairs to class. The man then turns back to Naerwen.
"Giloren would like to speak with you. I believe the High Druid has a task that he would like you to help him with, though I am uncertain to what exactly that task entails," he says seriously; though a slight glance of curiosity can be seen on his face. "I would not keep him waiting long, he is expecting you in his quarters."
|
|
|
Post by blackhawk on Jan 25, 2012 13:56:08 GMT -4
Vulgrim pounds out the last edge of the blade and quenches it, wiping sweat from his brow. He moves over to the sharpening wheel, tapping the pedal to get it going.
Jist this an' the etchin te get done, then I'll see aboot shinin' er up and makin a run up to tha keep te deliver 'er.
Vulgrim works to finish the dagger, then, after finishing it and taking a swill of water from a jug near the door, changes into something not covered in forge and heads up to deliver the Dagger to the Archmage.
|
|
mith
Junior Member
Posts: 90
|
Post by mith on Jan 25, 2012 15:39:10 GMT -4
Unfazed by the explosion, Grumplestiltskin sniffs curiously at the air in a halfhearted effort to identify the compounds involved. Raelma, the unfortunate student, always did seem to have trouble with... well, everything. Poor lad. If his father wasn't so well-known for his work in Transmutation, there's no question he'd have been asked to find another line of work.
"It's a shame your bench isn't next to mine, Raelma, you could have saved me a whole pile of work with that blast!" he joked as he mimed the destruction of his glassware and paperwork in a explosion. Looking over the assignments in front of him, he sighed loudly and looked longingly at the instructions for the special project he'd hoped to start this morning. But he knew better that to start one of the Sage's projects before taking care of more urgent assignments.
After mixing a few elixirs of his own, he picked out a half-dozen order sheets and set up the intricate glassware, burners, and other equipment needed for the morning's work.
Craft: Alchemy [dice=20] +16[rand=380621185060590586973479879088785192260332405576705589587800205]
|
|
|
Post by Naerwen on Jan 25, 2012 20:42:13 GMT -4
Naerwen nodded, “Good morning, Coryn. I believe they went well; yes.” She watched Leodak scramble up the stairs hoping they hadn’t returned too late.
She looked a bit curious as to why the High Druid wanted to speak with her, but she was always willing to help where she could. She nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go see him.” She bid Coryn a good day and swiftly moved to Giloren’s quarters wondering what this mysterious task entailed. She thought perhaps it may pertain to the magical beasts she helped tend to. His door was open when she arrived, so she knocked lightly on the frame of the door pausing long enough for the High Druid to offer her entrance. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
|
|
|
Post by irishmagician on Jan 26, 2012 1:09:33 GMT -4
The noon-tide sun rises high in the sky, shining its light down on the bustling town below. The ringing of from a bell-tower somewhere on the Academy campus signals lunch, as students begin streaming out of classrooms and workshops to enjoy a meal in between classes. Soon the sprawling green lawns that cover the Academy are filled with students and staff, many picnicking or "brown-bagging" as they prepare for their duties for the rest of the day.
The dwarven smith makes his way toward the Academy Square, threading through the bustling crowds of students coming and going from the buildings lining the thoroughfare. While the smaller races that frequent the Academy find this time of day difficult to navigate the campus, the dwarf is just tall enough prevent accidental trampling by the hordes of larger humans and elves. The Square comes into view....
(OOC: Blackhawk and Zeferin, please make a Perception check)
.......................................................
A myriad of colors glint softly in the sunlight streaming through a nearby window, as a row of finished potion vials sit ready in their racks at Grumplestiltskin's workstation. Conveniently, as the last concoction finished decanting, the sound of the noon-tide bell can be heard faintly in the distance beyond the walls of the laboratory. A murmur of approval can be heard a short distance behind the halfling, as a female elf carrying a clipboard approaches. Nodding towards the finished orders, she makes a check off on a sheet of paper.
"Good work," she says to to Grumplestiltskin. "Jorell's orders have been getting more ridiculous by the week. I can only hope that the....complexity...of his requests start leveling off. We can only obtain so much of these ingredients..." she trails off, imagining the academic horror of an alchemical supply shortage. "Anyways, feel free to take your break. The delivery lad called in sick, came down with a case of firegut, the poor boy. I will need you to bring Jorell's order up to the Tower in the afternoon, if that's alright," the elf says; looking up briefly from her checklist at the halfling.
........................................................
An aged elf in a deep green robe turns from gazing out a window. A slight smile comes to his face, accentuating the faint beginnings of wrinkles on his visage.
"Ah, little one. Please, do come in. Have a seat," he says as he gestures to a wooden chair off to the side. Leaning against the wall nearby is what appears to be a tree branch, leaves still sprouting from its periphery. As Naerwen sits, Giloren eases himself into a chair of his own with a soft sigh. Off in the distance, the faint tolling of a bell can be heard from the direction of the Academy.
"Ah...the centuries do creep up on you slowly, don't they?" he muses, stroking a thin wispy grey beard pensively. Giloren continues, "but I forget my manners. You probably wish to know the reason why I have requested your visit to my modest quarters," he says with a chuckle as he looks around bemusedly; a simple bed, writing desk, and cabinet do little to return his gaze.
"There is a small task that I would ask of you. Recently, Archmage Erfryn has requested a rather...unusual...item from me. I am sure you are aware of his occasional....experiments....that he sometimes conducts." A brief mix of amusement and exasperation cross his face briefly, as if the memory of one such experiment flitted into his mind. Shaking his head slightly, the druid continues. "This time, the Sage has requested a branch from the Great Tree that rests in our Grove deep within the Silverleaf Forest." Giloren nods towards the tree branch against the wall, as a small clump of leaves spontaneously sprout from the branch.
"It was no easy task convincing the Tree to part with such a boon, but somehow I managed to obtain this. I need you to bring this to Erfryn before the Sun sets for the evening. I would do the task myself, but there are other pressing matters that I must attend to. Only a Druid of our Circle may handle this Branch, so this errand can't be entrusted to just anyone. Would you bring this to him, and report back to me anything you can gather about his intent for it?" he asks Naerwen seriously.
|
|