<div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=18&amp;t=44759">OOC</a></div><br/><br/>The soft patter of a light rain on the wooden lats of the roof resonates within the suddenly quiet room. It has been quiet for so long that one might wonder why the silence seems to hang as thick as the clouds just beyond the window. A light sheet of rain can be seen through the glass coating the stone walkways with the days moisture. It's a light rain for the coastal town of Cair'morìan, so the markets of Cair'morìan can still be seen through the windows of the Inn bustling with beings of all races and walks of life. Beings who are so different one from the other that they barely seem to belong in the same place. On any other day this might be fascinating for those not used to such a sight. However, today that fascination is drawn by a single woman, old beyond reckoning for most races.  She sits hunched in upon herself, so no one really knows how tall the dark purple skinned Drow really is. Her skin is so wrinkly that it is hard to discern the markings upon it as it sags around frail looking arms sticking out of voluminous robes. Dark red swirls with intricate silver and black details swirling in and out of the red wound around her arms going up into the robes and being hidden by the black and red fabric. Her eyes are pure white and unseeing. She's blind. The once vibrant violet orbs are set deep within the wrinkled face. Her lips are pressed into a thin line with a deep healed wound bisecting her lip all the way up the right side of her face disappearing into the thin strands of white hair peaking out of the cowl and hood of her robes. She appears as a sunken shadow amongst the fabric. Thin claws rake the wood of the table as she grabs up smoothed by age stone with carvings deep into their surface. Symbols that many would not recognize from a language far older then the modern tongues. Each stone is taken spun once in the elder woman's hand then thrown back onto the surface of the table. The soft thump of the stone landing upon the wood is all that can be heard in the room.<br/><br/>A stunning young woman with long black hair with strands of blue and white died into it, mixing with the black cascading down her back. She has the light frame of an elf with the long pointed ears and the sharp vibrantly violet eyes of a Drow. The same dark purple skin as the elder woman, but this young female looks much younger, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties. She has a hint of pallor to her purple flesh making her seem exotically different. Mix the lighter skin with the black hair and one knows that she is not of pure Drow birth. The girl, who's very feminine form isn't quite hidden by the voluminous acolyte robes she wears, stands right at the elder woman's shoulder. Her sharp gaze focused on all those within the room around them.<br/><br/>The Inn was lit mostly by the candles sitting upon the wooden table where the elder woman sat and the faint ambient glow of the dim sunlight streaming in through the windows. The Inn of Wonderloss has a lot of windows, making it usually a very bright and open environment when it is not thick with pipe-smoke late in the evenings. However, it is lunchtime or thereabouts so there are few folks in the main room of the alehouse side of the Inn. Only a few scattered others are all that are there, with the ancient woman and her assistant glowering at the group of strangers the woman clearly do not enjoy seeing. Finally the elder woman stops her search holding one stone that is all white with a faded painted symbol also carved deep into the stones surface, this stone clearly different from all the black ones with unpainted carved symbols.<br/><br/>The elder woman begins mumbling words in a language most of you might not know, Undercommon.<span style="color: #AAAAAA">"Telanth ulu uns'aa gi Vyrdin. Jous uns'aa jal nindel vel'bolen zhah velkyn dal dhyn solen,"</span>she hissed in a melodic voice that sounded far softer then the aged appearance of the female speaking.<span style="color: #AAAAAA">"Ol zhah dosst dalharil Breoht, gi Vyrdin, tlu valyrin lu'balbau uns'aa dosst uyl'udith belbol d'zhaunil ulu el'e pholor nindyn vel'uss' dron lu'zak pholor nindolen wiles,"</span>she continued in the same tone of voice. Her eyes focused upon the stone she ran her her left hand over as she cradles it in her right hand. Her eyes closed slowly and she began to draw the remaining stones up into her withered hands. Her claws scrapped small marks into the wood as she did.<br/><br/>She threw the stones over the surface in the still silent room the only sound that resonated was the soft thump as they landed and flew across the surface. The elder woman ran her hands over the stones mumbling incoherently her body hunched over the table. She looked as one would expect of any oracle. Crazy and old. Breoht's creepy eyes flew open and she stared at the opposite wall as she spoke. In her younger days she would have sought out those to whom she spoke and pinned them with her vibrantly violet gaze that tended to terrify anyone who's eyes she met. However, now she could only stare straight ahead and hope that her gaze fell upon those who where meant to hear her words.<br/><br/><span style="color: #AAAAAA"><div style="text-align: center;">"Go seek that which is hidden beneath Cor'toran,<br/>For there treasure lies unbidden,<br/>Hidden by hands long forgotten,<br/>Around a time when none would know.<br/>Beware for much evil can be seen,<br/>Growing in darkness,<br/>Day by day.<br/>The world hangs in one balance,<br/>What will happen none will know,<br/>Safe those whose hands will shape the fold."</div></span><br/><br/>Her words were spoken in a hushed whisper that filled the room easily, and yet kept the air of mysticism she was going for. Breoht enjoyed the show that kept those around her on edge and uncertain. She did this on purpose those who were paying attention could tell this fact easily. She gathered up her stones and turned to the young Drow beside her.<br/><br/><span style="color: #AAAAAA">"Come Ceorshian, it's time for tea,"</span>as she spoke this time her voice was raspy and old as one would expect from and elder woman instead of the lilting lightly accented mystic voice that she had used moments before.