Majin
First Post
Verbatim - Everything sounds good, and "Mayor" Trond
will be happy to cooperate with Ayden on opening the theater again. An emissary of the Lost Vale should be arriving shortly after your return from the well. Mother Grundy will ID any 3 items of your choice as thanks for clearing up the problem with Naamani and her lizardmen. 
Seonaid - From reading the journal Chastity would think most of whats written in it was penned by a mad man. But there is one entry that catches her eye:
Delight in the wildness of the eternal screaming. The tithes one pays to gods, in the name of gods! We who breathe immortal air, when we must share it's warmth in our ever dying lungs. Ceaseless it bears fruit, and then in withering and dusk, turns pallid. For them, for myself, for tales of our own mortal vengeance, the gods smile in mockery and irony.
Now with my own twilight, I indulge in solemn coronation and crown myself King Fool, the greatest of rogues, whose true tale will never be revealed. Heir apparent to lost titles, master thief of the kingdom's greatest treasure! All these years of illusion and deceit. Ha! Never once did their prying fingers find my trove. Those fools, those poor fools, gave me far more than baubles. Never can they retrieve what they've lost. They never peered into the well, not once. All their pathetic longing, all their wasted tears, all their vain prayers. It's too bad they never thought to make a wish.


Seonaid - From reading the journal Chastity would think most of whats written in it was penned by a mad man. But there is one entry that catches her eye:
Delight in the wildness of the eternal screaming. The tithes one pays to gods, in the name of gods! We who breathe immortal air, when we must share it's warmth in our ever dying lungs. Ceaseless it bears fruit, and then in withering and dusk, turns pallid. For them, for myself, for tales of our own mortal vengeance, the gods smile in mockery and irony.
Now with my own twilight, I indulge in solemn coronation and crown myself King Fool, the greatest of rogues, whose true tale will never be revealed. Heir apparent to lost titles, master thief of the kingdom's greatest treasure! All these years of illusion and deceit. Ha! Never once did their prying fingers find my trove. Those fools, those poor fools, gave me far more than baubles. Never can they retrieve what they've lost. They never peered into the well, not once. All their pathetic longing, all their wasted tears, all their vain prayers. It's too bad they never thought to make a wish.