Eastgate & Westerly Reach

You say, ‘Hail, Oracle Morgak’

Oracle Morgak looks at you with wide eyes. “Stand back! I warn you! [Felinyria] may burn, burn! I cannot be thwarted! The fires burn within me. . .’

You say, ‘who is Felinyria’

Oracle Morgak says ‘Watched her lands did I, ruled by the Dukes. Squabbling children, noblest of men. . . where is the difference? They are but insects to my kind. Upon the Overlook stood I, watching the Widening from Westerly Reach to Eastgate. Readying plans, readying for the day of [burning].’

You say, ‘what burning’

Oracle Morgak frowns and his eyes blaze with an infernal hue. “Behind me, they came. Two. The foolish, so stuck up in their “honor”, they had to hail me rather than attack from behind. Turned to face them, did I. The burning taking my hand already. The two, they knew my course, and a right pretty [speech] did one give.’

You say, ‘what speech’

Oracle Morgak growls. ‘The pretty words of the Lightlings mean but snuff to me! Silvered Tree, he called himself. Tall. He had a burning of his own, but it did not show. He called it with his voice, and from the ground it sprang. The other, she named herself Cabbageleaf. Small, she was. Furry feet in sandals! I didn’t hear them arrive, but the little one, she had a [shine] to her.’

You say, ‘what shine’

Oracle Morgak says ‘The High Ones, they don’t believe in the old arts. Stories for children, they say. We know different, though!’ He cackles, and looks at you slyly. ‘The half-size woman, when I first turned, she had that shine from the old magic. It is my guess that she had just jumped place-strands, with the Tall One, [moving instantly] from another place to where I plotted.’

you say ‘what moving instantly’

Oracle Morgak says ‘The arts of the old ones are all but forgotten by “civilization”, but some have the know of them.’ He shrugs. ‘No time to think on it, did I have. The tall one, fair he was, his burning shook the ground at my feet, hurt my eyes, stung my poor skin. . . My burning gave [battle]!’

You say, ‘what battle’

Oracle Morgak says ‘Burned the tall one, did I! Took his eyebrows, the look on his face! Maybe not too clever of me. . . ‘ He looks downcast. ‘He reached his hands up to the clouds, and the weather itself bent to him, answered him! While the storm gathered about his head, the little one. . . she put her hand on the Tall’s arm. The wounds I’d just caused. . . closed and mended right there! [Trouble] for me.’

You say, ‘what trouble’

Oracle Morgak says ‘While the shorty mended the Tall, the storm grew dark. . . my burning was fading! Sparks, there were, sparks from the cloud jumping at my feet. . . poor me. Won over by two Lightlings, Dark curse their days. Banished here, was I. Felinyria will burn in time. . . all in time. It seems here, I have plenty enough of that.’


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