Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Next
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
Twitch
YouTube
Facebook (EN Publishing)
Facebook (EN World)
Twitter
Instagram
TikTok
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
The
VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX
is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Talismans of Aerdrim
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="havenstone" data-source="post: 4732871" data-attributes="member: 61094"><p><strong>Onto the Plains</strong></p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">KYLA SLEEPS ONLY</span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"> fitfully that night, and wakes with a start at words that reverberate in her mind, seeming to bypass her ears entirely: <em>Only you can hear this. Go to the corridor below the eastmost wall if you want a chance to save your people.</em> She looks down at Gareth’s outstretched body, and her hand hovers for a moment above his shoulder. Then she slips out of bed, clothes and arms herself, and leaves her d’Loriad lover asleep.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The stables and barracks of Guardwatch are swarming with warriors preparing to ride out at dawn; the rest of the fortress is unusually deserted, and Kyla has to evade relatively few guards before arriving at the rendezvous point. A tall, hooded man detaches himself from the shadows at the end of the corridor. His features are hidden by his cowl, and he carries a nondescript sword with the poise of a skilled fighter. When he speaks, it is with an affected, raspy <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4363981-post19.html" target="_blank">stammer</a>. “W-we are al-lone.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Who are you?” Kyla hisses, her knives in her hands. When the hooded man stays silent, she adds accusingly, “Why did you and <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4439076-post34.html" target="_blank">Aleander</a> <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4703285-post46.html" target="_blank">kill General Marcor</a>?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“W-we have done w-what was needful to w-weaken the army,” the man whispers. “W-we do not want it d-destroyed, but it c-cannot be allowed to d-destroy the Arawai.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“What do you want from me?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“W-we have sent a Message t-to the Arawai, as w-we did t-to you in your sleep. The sp-speaker for the t-tribes will be waiting f-for you t-ten miles to the s-south. S-simply tell h-him to watch the Basin’s s-southeast r-ridge for t-twenty-five hundred m-men.” The hooded man spreads his hands. “T-that is all. W-with this knowledge, the t-tribesmen w-will be able to d-defeat the f-flanking force and push back th-the army. N-neither side will be d-destroyed. The Arawai w-will keep their l-land.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Kyla looks around distrustfully, still seeing no one around them – no one to accuse her of treason, no one who could help her capture the hooded man.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“This is <em>truth</em>, Arawai girl.” The man steps back into the shadows. “D-do with it what you will.”</span></p><p> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">A STORM IS</span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"> rolling in from the south, and the livid dawn light barely penetrates the thick purple bank of cloud as Kyla slips out across the plains. She takes a circuitous route, checking frequently to see whether she is being followed as part of some plot to have her trapped and painted as a traitor. She sees no one. For three hours, she runs through the grasslands, tormented to the last by doubts about where her loyalties ought to lie. When she finally spies seven riders on the horizon moving toward her, Kyla halts, feeling her emotional turmoil collapse into dull resignation. She leaves her bow on her back and her knives in their sheaths.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">As the riders approach her, she recognizes <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4547760-post42.html" target="_blank">T’harai of the Red Kestrel</a>. The speaker for the tribes rides with five other warriors she has not seen before, as well as a withered Arawai crone wearing a dozen knotted necklaces of feathers, bones, and twigs. T’harai regards Kyla with impassive wariness. “Hail, little sister. What word do you bring for us?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“There are traitors among the Senallines,” Kyla says simply. “They told me to warn you to watch the Basin’s southeast ridge for twenty-five hundred men. They say that if you break this flanking force, you will be able to hold off the Great Army of the North, and the plains will remain free.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">T’harai glances over to the wise woman, who has been gazing oddly at Kyla. “She is not lying,” the old seer wheezes.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“But you can’t trust these men,” Kyla bursts out. “I’ve told you truly what they told me, but I don’t know who they are. In my heart... I don’t believe they are friends to the Arawai as they claim.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The clan-chief nods without surprise. “Do not fear, little sister. There is more treachery here than the <em>kherasi</em> know.” He exchanges glances with his warriors, and a tremendous bitterness swells up his voice. “At Lynar I warned them how their games would end.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">No one speaks for several long moments. Having delivered her message, Kyla feels lost and empty. “Should... should I stay with you, or go?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">T’harai looks intently at her before answering. “The <em>kherasi</em> have <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4711278-post50.html" target="_blank">my sister’s son</a>.”</span></p><p> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">ON A FAR</span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"> distant stretch of the plains, Ash is finishing his solitary breakfast of dry bread and jerky. He has found no Arawai scouts in his area, and no one has fired on him. However, as he prepares to advance, he glimpses a flash of silvery movement; squinting more carefully, he thinks he sees a lithe, human shape moving through the brush some hundred yards away. At once, Ash draws his bow and fires a remarkably precise shot [natural 20].</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The movement stops. A cautious Ash begins making his way toward the bushes, and is halfway there when he feels a long, razor-keen blade rest on his throat. He freezes, wondering how his target managed to get behind him so swiftly and silently. “You have wounded me with steel, man,” a strangely thin voice hisses in Ash’s ear, sending a chill down his spine. “Centuries after your corpse returns to the mud, you will be remembered for the never-healing pain you have caused.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I thought you were Arawai,” Ash manages to choke out, dropping his bow and holding out his hands in a yielding gesture.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“It is only for the sake of an Arawai that you still live,” says the unamused voice. The slender sword moves away from Ash’s throat; Ash notes that the blade appears to be made of bone. “The Arawai woman Tevrala has been cast out by her people for bearing my child, and has taken refuge with yours. I could not reach my lover in her people’s place; but if she has come north, I will be able to find her. Have you seen or heard of an Arawai woman among your tribe?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ash cautiously turns his head. He glimpses pale hands, and for a moment fears that he has been captured by Shect – but then he sees his captor’s long mane of silver hair bound back by an intricate web of thorn-vines, huge dark eyes, and bloodless lips, and knows that he has never seen anyone remotely like this before. The lean figure wears mottled leather clothes that seem to be slowly shifting their color to match the grass and brush around them; he carries a recurved bow and a quiver which seems to contain not only finely fletched arrows but faint, roiling light, like a will-o-the-wisp. A neat cut along one shoulder, dark and glistening, marks the place where Ash’s arrow struck. “Who are you?” Ash gasps in disbelief.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I should boil your blood dry for presuming to ask, man,” comes the sharp response.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I think my friend Kyla helped your Tevrala,” Ash says hurriedly, his skin crawling. “She told me she had helped an outcast Arawai woman with an albino newborn find shelter with the merchants outside Guardwatch.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">A gleam appears in his adversary’s fathomless eyes. “I am Kabriel, Thorn Prince of the Fe Duatha. If I find her, I will be in your debt, and your friend’s. If I do not, you will know the name behind the arrow that finds your throat.” Without another word, the pale stranger stalks off into the brush. Seconds later, Ash can no longer see him.</span></p><p> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">BACK IN GUARDWATCH</span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">, the two High Generals of the Senallines complete their muster of six hundred cavalry (half the total from all the Northern nations), a hundred warrior priests, and eighteen hundred infantry. Shortly after dawn, Sarquin d’Loriad and Athriam d’Aramant ride across the courtyard to eager cheers. “The battle we have awaited is at hand!” roars General Athriam. “You few are the hammer that will break the plainsmen against the anvil of our main force. They will not see us or know of our presence until we come pouring down upon them like the brimstone of Ain!”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Today, we march hard,” General Sarquin shouts. “Tomorrow, we will hit the Arawai by surprise on their weakest flank, while the rest of the army joins us to crush them. You have been chosen because you are the finest, the fiercest, the strongest warriors in all the civilized realms. Your battle begins <em>now</em>; from this hour, do not falter, do not reduce your vigilance or strength, until you have broken the barbarians forever!”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya and her seven squires ride out close to the Generals. The flanking force moves at speed all day across the rolling plains, up to the edge of a great dry basin, where they make camp without fires and settle down for a few hours of sleep. Throughout the evening, the scouts who have been clearing this region of barbarians begin to return and report. Though no Arawai outriders have been known to escape alive, the Northern scouts have found rather fewer than expected.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“M’lord – what if, after all, the Arawai have found out we’re here?” Ontaya questions the General in private. “Will they be able to fend off the surprise attack if they know it’s coming?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“We brought our strongest warriors here not only to make a strong surprise attack,” Sarquin replies softly, looking out across the gritty expanse. “Our spies tell us that the plainsmen consider this Basin the most sacred spot in the Arawai plains -- holier even than the great burial plain where Zeresc fought with them, and plans to fight again tomorrow. To prevent the Basin's desecration, the Arawai would throw everything at us – more of their riders than they can afford. I believe that even if they know we are here, we can hold them long enough for Mercon, Zeresc, and the other generals to overrun their other force and come to our relief.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya looks out at the dust basin again. There is a sense of wild power to the place, a hum just out of the range of audible sound – not quite the sanctification she knows from the cathedrals of Senallin, to which her paladin senses are attuned, but a close cousin to it. She is not surprised that the Arawai consider it sacred, and she walks away slightly troubled.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ash arrives after dark and finds his way to Ontaya and the squires. They tersely exchange news of the last few days before falling into a brief sleep. The camp rouses silently before daybreak. The cavalrymen muffle their horses’ hooves with cloth to limit the amount of dust and grit they’ll kick up, and under the stars, the army moves out slowly into the hallowed basin.</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="havenstone, post: 4732871, member: 61094"] [b]Onto the Plains[/b] [B][FONT=Verdana]KYLA SLEEPS ONLY[/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana] fitfully that night, and wakes with a start at words that reverberate in her mind, seeming to bypass her ears entirely: [I]Only you can hear this. Go to the corridor below the eastmost wall if you want a chance to save your people.[/I] She looks down at Gareth’s outstretched body, and her hand hovers for a moment above his shoulder. Then she slips out of bed, clothes and arms herself, and leaves her d’Loriad lover asleep.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The stables and barracks of Guardwatch are swarming with warriors preparing to ride out at dawn; the rest of the fortress is unusually deserted, and Kyla has to evade relatively few guards before arriving at the rendezvous point. A tall, hooded man detaches himself from the shadows at the end of the corridor. His features are hidden by his cowl, and he carries a nondescript sword with the poise of a skilled fighter. When he speaks, it is with an affected, raspy [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4363981-post19.html"]stammer[/URL]. “W-we are al-lone.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Who are you?” Kyla hisses, her knives in her hands. When the hooded man stays silent, she adds accusingly, “Why did you and [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4439076-post34.html"]Aleander[/URL] [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4703285-post46.html"]kill General Marcor[/URL]?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“W-we have done w-what was needful to w-weaken the army,” the man whispers. “W-we do not want it d-destroyed, but it c-cannot be allowed to d-destroy the Arawai.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“What do you want from me?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“W-we have sent a Message t-to the Arawai, as w-we did t-to you in your sleep. The sp-speaker for the t-tribes will be waiting f-for you t-ten miles to the s-south. S-simply tell h-him to watch the Basin’s s-southeast r-ridge for t-twenty-five hundred m-men.” The hooded man spreads his hands. “T-that is all. W-with this knowledge, the t-tribesmen w-will be able to d-defeat the f-flanking force and push back th-the army. N-neither side will be d-destroyed. The Arawai w-will keep their l-land.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Kyla looks around distrustfully, still seeing no one around them – no one to accuse her of treason, no one who could help her capture the hooded man.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“This is [I]truth[/I], Arawai girl.” The man steps back into the shadows. “D-do with it what you will.”[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]A STORM IS[/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana] rolling in from the south, and the livid dawn light barely penetrates the thick purple bank of cloud as Kyla slips out across the plains. She takes a circuitous route, checking frequently to see whether she is being followed as part of some plot to have her trapped and painted as a traitor. She sees no one. For three hours, she runs through the grasslands, tormented to the last by doubts about where her loyalties ought to lie. When she finally spies seven riders on the horizon moving toward her, Kyla halts, feeling her emotional turmoil collapse into dull resignation. She leaves her bow on her back and her knives in their sheaths.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]As the riders approach her, she recognizes [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4547760-post42.html"]T’harai of the Red Kestrel[/URL]. The speaker for the tribes rides with five other warriors she has not seen before, as well as a withered Arawai crone wearing a dozen knotted necklaces of feathers, bones, and twigs. T’harai regards Kyla with impassive wariness. “Hail, little sister. What word do you bring for us?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“There are traitors among the Senallines,” Kyla says simply. “They told me to warn you to watch the Basin’s southeast ridge for twenty-five hundred men. They say that if you break this flanking force, you will be able to hold off the Great Army of the North, and the plains will remain free.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]T’harai glances over to the wise woman, who has been gazing oddly at Kyla. “She is not lying,” the old seer wheezes.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“But you can’t trust these men,” Kyla bursts out. “I’ve told you truly what they told me, but I don’t know who they are. In my heart... I don’t believe they are friends to the Arawai as they claim.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The clan-chief nods without surprise. “Do not fear, little sister. There is more treachery here than the [I]kherasi[/I] know.” He exchanges glances with his warriors, and a tremendous bitterness swells up his voice. “At Lynar I warned them how their games would end.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]No one speaks for several long moments. Having delivered her message, Kyla feels lost and empty. “Should... should I stay with you, or go?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]T’harai looks intently at her before answering. “The [I]kherasi[/I] have [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4711278-post50.html"]my sister’s son[/URL].”[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]ON A FAR[/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana] distant stretch of the plains, Ash is finishing his solitary breakfast of dry bread and jerky. He has found no Arawai scouts in his area, and no one has fired on him. However, as he prepares to advance, he glimpses a flash of silvery movement; squinting more carefully, he thinks he sees a lithe, human shape moving through the brush some hundred yards away. At once, Ash draws his bow and fires a remarkably precise shot [natural 20].[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The movement stops. A cautious Ash begins making his way toward the bushes, and is halfway there when he feels a long, razor-keen blade rest on his throat. He freezes, wondering how his target managed to get behind him so swiftly and silently. “You have wounded me with steel, man,” a strangely thin voice hisses in Ash’s ear, sending a chill down his spine. “Centuries after your corpse returns to the mud, you will be remembered for the never-healing pain you have caused.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I thought you were Arawai,” Ash manages to choke out, dropping his bow and holding out his hands in a yielding gesture.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“It is only for the sake of an Arawai that you still live,” says the unamused voice. The slender sword moves away from Ash’s throat; Ash notes that the blade appears to be made of bone. “The Arawai woman Tevrala has been cast out by her people for bearing my child, and has taken refuge with yours. I could not reach my lover in her people’s place; but if she has come north, I will be able to find her. Have you seen or heard of an Arawai woman among your tribe?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ash cautiously turns his head. He glimpses pale hands, and for a moment fears that he has been captured by Shect – but then he sees his captor’s long mane of silver hair bound back by an intricate web of thorn-vines, huge dark eyes, and bloodless lips, and knows that he has never seen anyone remotely like this before. The lean figure wears mottled leather clothes that seem to be slowly shifting their color to match the grass and brush around them; he carries a recurved bow and a quiver which seems to contain not only finely fletched arrows but faint, roiling light, like a will-o-the-wisp. A neat cut along one shoulder, dark and glistening, marks the place where Ash’s arrow struck. “Who are you?” Ash gasps in disbelief.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I should boil your blood dry for presuming to ask, man,” comes the sharp response.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I think my friend Kyla helped your Tevrala,” Ash says hurriedly, his skin crawling. “She told me she had helped an outcast Arawai woman with an albino newborn find shelter with the merchants outside Guardwatch.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]A gleam appears in his adversary’s fathomless eyes. “I am Kabriel, Thorn Prince of the Fe Duatha. If I find her, I will be in your debt, and your friend’s. If I do not, you will know the name behind the arrow that finds your throat.” Without another word, the pale stranger stalks off into the brush. Seconds later, Ash can no longer see him.[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]BACK IN GUARDWATCH[/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana], the two High Generals of the Senallines complete their muster of six hundred cavalry (half the total from all the Northern nations), a hundred warrior priests, and eighteen hundred infantry. Shortly after dawn, Sarquin d’Loriad and Athriam d’Aramant ride across the courtyard to eager cheers. “The battle we have awaited is at hand!” roars General Athriam. “You few are the hammer that will break the plainsmen against the anvil of our main force. They will not see us or know of our presence until we come pouring down upon them like the brimstone of Ain!”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Today, we march hard,” General Sarquin shouts. “Tomorrow, we will hit the Arawai by surprise on their weakest flank, while the rest of the army joins us to crush them. You have been chosen because you are the finest, the fiercest, the strongest warriors in all the civilized realms. Your battle begins [I]now[/I]; from this hour, do not falter, do not reduce your vigilance or strength, until you have broken the barbarians forever!”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya and her seven squires ride out close to the Generals. The flanking force moves at speed all day across the rolling plains, up to the edge of a great dry basin, where they make camp without fires and settle down for a few hours of sleep. Throughout the evening, the scouts who have been clearing this region of barbarians begin to return and report. Though no Arawai outriders have been known to escape alive, the Northern scouts have found rather fewer than expected.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“M’lord – what if, after all, the Arawai have found out we’re here?” Ontaya questions the General in private. “Will they be able to fend off the surprise attack if they know it’s coming?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“We brought our strongest warriors here not only to make a strong surprise attack,” Sarquin replies softly, looking out across the gritty expanse. “Our spies tell us that the plainsmen consider this Basin the most sacred spot in the Arawai plains -- holier even than the great burial plain where Zeresc fought with them, and plans to fight again tomorrow. To prevent the Basin's desecration, the Arawai would throw everything at us – more of their riders than they can afford. I believe that even if they know we are here, we can hold them long enough for Mercon, Zeresc, and the other generals to overrun their other force and come to our relief.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya looks out at the dust basin again. There is a sense of wild power to the place, a hum just out of the range of audible sound – not quite the sanctification she knows from the cathedrals of Senallin, to which her paladin senses are attuned, but a close cousin to it. She is not surprised that the Arawai consider it sacred, and she walks away slightly troubled.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ash arrives after dark and finds his way to Ontaya and the squires. They tersely exchange news of the last few days before falling into a brief sleep. The camp rouses silently before daybreak. The cavalrymen muffle their horses’ hooves with cloth to limit the amount of dust and grit they’ll kick up, and under the stars, the army moves out slowly into the hallowed basin.[/FONT] [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
The Talismans of Aerdrim
Top