Thigmopheles P'terrun sits by the river, watching moonlight play on the water. His expression is solemn, but he does not weep. Instead, there is an uncharacteristic anger brewing behind his ink-black eyes. "It's this place, Aldan," he says to the moonlight. "This Gobaith. It isn't right. There's a darkness about it that's more than just an absence of light, the stench of a kind of death that's more than simply the end of life. The humans and dwarves have no sense of it, and even the elves of this place seem strangely unconcerned with the... the anomalies here. Surely, they can sense the wrongness of it, the unnaturalness. And yet they seem untroubled."
He stands, brushing the sand of the riverbank from his trousers, and looks west, toward the Druidhouse and the old Monastery of Eldan. Some of the old clumsiness is gone from his long limbs, and there is steely resolve now in the set of jaw and brow, where once there was only doe-eyed innocence. "I will never forget you, my friend. You introduced me to the ways of druidry. But I must go on. I must find a new teacher and continue my studies. I came to Gobaith to do what I could to stave off the dark forces that have come into the world, to restore the Natural Order. I don't doubt but those dark forces have something to do with your untimely end. It would be an insult to your memory to give up now and run away home.
"You are with Eldan and Ushara now, and I will see you again, I hope, in that Other Place. For now, there is much to be accomplished here. May Elara guide me. Elara and the spirit of Aldan Vian."
Last edited by Pterry
on Sun Feb 08, 2009 11:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.