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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ashy" data-source="post: 1778187" data-attributes="member: 312">Yarish manages to tear his green eyes from Kiera and composes himself.  He begins speaking and you can suddenly tell that he is far older than his actions might indicate.  His words take on a sing-song quality that you have often heard bards use while reciting ancient lays and ballads."Your children, your wards, share your sentence clear,Forever and a year we bind you here.Seven citadels to hold your fate,Seven to cradle you in our hate;Feathered four-horned fowl protect from breach,And bar all creation from your reach.None less than the greatest of the grand,Wielding at their side or in their handsNot less than the grandest of the great,May ever aspire to break this fate.Hear our laughter from pantheons on high,As you envy mortals who simply die."The singsong voice ends, and it has grown darker in the cave, despite the growing fire.  Chills run down each of your arms and back up again, scampering up your shoulders to settle in, like frigid nettles, at the base of your skulls.Yarish continues, "This is the Oath of Binding, or a near approximation thereof, which was spoken at the beginning of time, when it is thought that the Forge was created.  None know for certain, but many greybeards believe that it was at that time that the Flock, though not the current incarnations of them as we know them today, were also created, and bound to the very roots of the world itself.  None know why they were created, nor why they are bound, nor why they do what they do, but everyone you meet - or rather, everyone that is kind enough to speak with you - has their own ideas about the why's and the wherefore's.  Personally, I believe that they are guarding the life force of the Forge itself, by which they are also bound, and that their connection to this ever-present force causes them to slowly go insane.  Thus, they desire to pull in others - know as seeds - in an attempt to have a diversion from this insanity, or possibly freedom from it, for those seeds who are foolish enough to fight them-"Yana snorts, "Yer a fool sometimes, Yarish.  Everyone knows that the Flock are the remnants of gods, exiled here forever.  They pull unfortunates in from other worlds with all that remains of their divine abilities and play them like marionetts do their puppets!  They-""Enough.  We do not need another argument about this."   Isror eyes the halfling and his wife.  "It is time to hear about how our guests arrived here..."  He then looks to you, as he adds some odd-shaped tubers into the thick, rich-smelling, brown stew before him.</blockquote>

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