Grandfather nods, then gets to his feet with a wry smile.
"The masked witches, yes...I should start with them. Anything else would be an insult." He gave a brief bow to the Queen and the druid. "My thanks to you both. You've been most helpful. With luck, perhaps I can return the favor shortly."
Outside of the tent, the sky still swirled and boomed with the supernatural storm of Unweaving. Grandfather couldn't help but spare it another glance as he set off for the Hathran's camp...reasoning that it would probably be as far as possible from the gaudy red pavilions of the Thayans as possible. The storm was madness, and the thought of tampering with those forces was equally mad.
But he'd been called mad before...and with more cause. After all, these wizards and sorcerors were desperate, and they represented the biggest gathering of arcane power the world had seen since the fall of Netheril. Grandfather knew that some forces were simply too great to stop entirely. The best one could do was influence them, guide them to do as little damage as possible, until their momentum stalled.
Abruptly a masked young woman was in his path. One of the Ethran, Grandfather decided, the apprentices. He stopped and bowed. "I've come to see the Wychlaren," he said warmly. "I am known as Grandfather. Tell them I've come to discuss a solution to the stalemate, and that I represent no party other than myself, and the Green."
"The masked witches, yes...I should start with them. Anything else would be an insult." He gave a brief bow to the Queen and the druid. "My thanks to you both. You've been most helpful. With luck, perhaps I can return the favor shortly."
Outside of the tent, the sky still swirled and boomed with the supernatural storm of Unweaving. Grandfather couldn't help but spare it another glance as he set off for the Hathran's camp...reasoning that it would probably be as far as possible from the gaudy red pavilions of the Thayans as possible. The storm was madness, and the thought of tampering with those forces was equally mad.
But he'd been called mad before...and with more cause. After all, these wizards and sorcerors were desperate, and they represented the biggest gathering of arcane power the world had seen since the fall of Netheril. Grandfather knew that some forces were simply too great to stop entirely. The best one could do was influence them, guide them to do as little damage as possible, until their momentum stalled.
Abruptly a masked young woman was in his path. One of the Ethran, Grandfather decided, the apprentices. He stopped and bowed. "I've come to see the Wychlaren," he said warmly. "I am known as Grandfather. Tell them I've come to discuss a solution to the stalemate, and that I represent no party other than myself, and the Green."