Here lad, you take it. We’ve been through a lot this pot and I, ever since the last Great War, but you’re too young to remember that one. I had this with me in all my campaigns after that. The Althial Border Wars, the rising of the Dragon Lords, the Dwarven Rage… Ah but I’m old and toothless now an’ it’s no use to me. Take the pot lad, use it well. At least you’ll always be guarenteed a reasonable meal
The Sisters may be found anywhere from street corners, where they offer to tell ones future for a few pennies, to those who appear to be working for the service of a lord. It is said that they go where they will, when they will they work for who they choose, not for who chooses them.
Seen by some as warriors for the gods, and by others as mere mercenaries drapped in a priests robes.
Ibn Al-Fadyn is no ordinary weaver of tales, but instead tells tales of infromation and observation.
The ochre sands stretch for miles around. Something kicks up the dust. It's a yak. A desert-yak. It ambles slowly, nuzzling the ground for the low-growing shrubs. The ranger freezes. "Stay very still," he warns. "Don't move at all."
"What is it?" you ask, breathlessly.
"It's the most dangerous creature in the whole Ocadian desert. And it's about to eat that yak..."