Rae ArdGaoth
Explorer
The old elf is silent for a moment, thinking. "Hmm..." he mutters, "Vildaxaranthus the Lichwyrm was a legend when I was a child. Destroyed entire kingdoms, if I recall correctly. He's coming back, you say? That is bad news. Worse than our problems, I daresay, wouldn't you agree Nhairi?"
"I would have to agree, Vagrant. We are but a small band of blind monks and druids, the return of a powerful lich would devastate many lives. Though... I cannot help but wonder if our own problem is not related to this supposed return?"
"The thought crossed my mind, indeed it did. Can you tell us more about this shard? This... 'Sylvan Shard'? I can't say I've heard such a thing, though you might ask the druids if they've seen it. Ah, eh... they're asleep, aren't they.... Well, I suppose we could try to wake one of them for a moment. But if you know anything more about this shard, you'd best tell me now, before we rouse them."
"And this little one, this fey girl, I wish I could catch her scent and answer your question for you, but alas, with this stench, our senses are hindered. Are you intent on keeping her, or would you like us to take her off your hands? She might find a place among us."
"Oh, and say, you wouldn't have happened to have stumbled upon a few brothers of our order on your way here, would you? We're missing about eight of them. Yes, exactly eight. I sent them down to the roots of the Wyrwood Monastery, and they haven't come back yet. It's been a few days, so I'm wondering if they're ever going to come back..."
Despite the blindfold covering Grandmaester Vagrant's face and the loose clothing covering the rest of him, you can tell by his wrinkles that he is truly ancient, even by elven standards.
Nhairi's mouth is contorted into a frown, her arms are crossed. She's clearly very concerned about all this. Vagrant seems less so.
"I would have to agree, Vagrant. We are but a small band of blind monks and druids, the return of a powerful lich would devastate many lives. Though... I cannot help but wonder if our own problem is not related to this supposed return?"
"The thought crossed my mind, indeed it did. Can you tell us more about this shard? This... 'Sylvan Shard'? I can't say I've heard such a thing, though you might ask the druids if they've seen it. Ah, eh... they're asleep, aren't they.... Well, I suppose we could try to wake one of them for a moment. But if you know anything more about this shard, you'd best tell me now, before we rouse them."
"And this little one, this fey girl, I wish I could catch her scent and answer your question for you, but alas, with this stench, our senses are hindered. Are you intent on keeping her, or would you like us to take her off your hands? She might find a place among us."
"Oh, and say, you wouldn't have happened to have stumbled upon a few brothers of our order on your way here, would you? We're missing about eight of them. Yes, exactly eight. I sent them down to the roots of the Wyrwood Monastery, and they haven't come back yet. It's been a few days, so I'm wondering if they're ever going to come back..."
Despite the blindfold covering Grandmaester Vagrant's face and the loose clothing covering the rest of him, you can tell by his wrinkles that he is truly ancient, even by elven standards.
Nhairi's mouth is contorted into a frown, her arms are crossed. She's clearly very concerned about all this. Vagrant seems less so.